Sundered
by Creen
Summary: Sequel to Candle in the Dark. This is Kotor 2, but influenced by CitD. General Surik unofficially died at Malachor. The woman who survived let go of everything she was, trying to forget. But the galaxy isn't fair, and a shadow from the past has plans for the former general. However... War is not a pet... and General Surik was broken at Malachor V. Not tamed. You should be running.
1. Chapter 1

The woman scowled as she struggled to pull the engine panel open. Her light hydrospanner didn't have enough torque to budge the damaged bolts.

"Three-See, grab the oh-nine hydrospanner," she hissed, sucking at her skinned knuckles. The squat utility droid beeped at her, wrestling the hydrospanner from the cart, stabilizing the heavy tool in the primary grasper arm with its fine-grasper arm as it trundled back.

 _[The tool, as requested]_ , 3C-FD beeped.

"Thanks. Can you start diagnostics on this engine?" the woman asked, using the heavier hydrospanner on the corroded bolts.

 _[Negative. Diagnostic port has been destroyed]_ the utility droid apologized.

 _Of course_ , Choy thought, glaring at the damaged engine.

Some genius had decided to shave a few parsecs off their supply run (with a faulty deflector shield projector) through a meteoroid storm. The result; a badly shredded engine, and an irate Bith pilot behind on his delivery timetable.

The dock master came out of his office, more to escape the ranting pilot, than anything, and wandered over to Choy, milking the comparative silence of the massive hanger as long as he could. It was a long walk, but Choy could see him from the corner of her eye as she worked.

Choy knew he had a name, but she preferred to think of the man as _the dock master_. Titles were safer than names. Names bred familiarity.

"How's it look, Choy?" the dock master asked, standing four meters away. She was grateful for his courtesy, but bit off the reaction before anything more could grow from it.

"Starboard engine is scrap. Two meteoroids cored the primary power thrust generator, and damaged the coolant lines," Choy said flatly.

The dock master pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

"He's lucky the engine didn't explode," Choy finished.

At the word _explode_ , the dock master's eyes snapped open again.

Everyone on Peragus was leery of explosives, considering how volatile the fuel they mined from the asteroids was.

"Can it be repaired?" the dock master asked.

"Do you see any spare thrust generators listed in the supply stores? Especially for a _Tympan_ -class medium freighter?" Choy grumbled, trying to dislodge a piece of metal shrapnel blocking an intake valve.

"Not the last time I checked, no," the man said ruefully. He was young, barely older than twenty-five, with blonde hair and a fresh-faced innocence about him. Choy wished he hadn't shaved the ridiculous moustache off. It had given her something to fix her gaze on, to avoid his eyes. Watching his lips, or nose simply felt _wrong_.

 _[We can cut the engine out of the loop]_ 3C-FD ventured.

"What did it say?" the dock master asked.

"Three-See said we could cut the engine out of the loop," Choy translated.

"Will that work?" the dock master asked, hopefully.

"Yes… if a straight window opens up in the orbital drift pattern, and the freighter doesn't have to maneuver," Choy replied.

They both knew the likelihood of that happening, this deep in the asteroid field.

"See what you can do," the dock master sighed, squaring his shoulders, in preparation for walking back into the tirade waiting for him in his office.

Another reason Choy preferred droids to people.

"I really don't want to go back in there…" the dock master sighed.

"Effess nine oh seven could hose him down for you," Choy grunted, gesturing at the fire-suppression droid that always followed her around.

"That might be lethal," the dock master laughed, but the man still paused, considering it for a moment.

FS-907 perked up at the possible mention of fire suppression duties.

"I'm sorry Effess. It was a joke," Choy called.

The vaguely crab-shaped droid seemed to droop a little, but powered down its fire suppression projector, returning to standby.

The dock master continued to stare at his office, but didn't move.

"He has kids," the dock master said, breaking the growing silence.

Choy didn't answer, keeping her hands and eyes busy with the engine.

"Six of them. He needs this job," the dock master said, still staring at the office.

The dock master was asking for help, in his roundabout way without ever asking a question. Choy hated it, because it was oddly endearing, and therefore, a threat.

"He's yelling so much because he thinks I'm going to spike his license," the dock master sighed.

"There's a reason for the security clearances," Choy pointed out.

"Yes. One mistake and _everyone_ is dead… but this is the first time. _And_ he didn't explode…" the dock master trailed off wistfully.

"This time," Choy finished flatly.

((()))

"Good afternoon, admiral. I'm glad you were available," Supreme Chancellor Tol Cressa said warmly, seated at the luncheon table.

Admiral Onasi nodded stiffly, "Thank you, Chancellor," and sat at the expensive _greel_ wood table. His red and gold uniform seemed designed to camouflage against the crimson whorls of the table, and Carth wished it actually could.

"I hear that the outer rim shipping lanes have grown safer since your appointment to admiral?" Tol Cressa inquired politely, as he cut into some sort of seared avian life form, a delicacy no doubt.

"Scarcer. Not safer. Attacks are down because there's less shipping in the area," Carth replied bluntly, eyeing some of the foods, trying to see if he recognized any that wouldn't aggravate his ulcer.

"Admiral, please. The senate has already looked at your proposal and rebuffed it. We simply don't have the resources… and besides, you have the largest fleet in Republic space. You are hardly in a position to beg for more ships," Cressa rebuked casually.

"It's also the fleet with the oldest ships, and the youngest crews," Carth retorted, though he didn't raise his voice. He decided on something that looked like a pastry, or a meat pie, and carefully took a bite.

"Sadly, these are the times we live in. Losses were severe. Even with the enlisted crews pardoned from the Sith Empire in the last war, we simply don't have the manpower…" Cressa sighed.

"Part of the treaty stipulated that those enlisted could never rise to the officer corps. That still leaves a crippling shortage of command crews, chancellor," Carth said sharply.

"Would _you_ trust the command of our ships to those that have betrayed their oaths once already?" Cressa rejoined.

"No," Carth said simply.

((()))

"Approaching rock sigma two seven niner," the pilot said flatly. A meteoroid slammed into his aft deflector, causing the twenty-meter long orehauler to shake, but nothing more.

"Rand, you still hungover?" one of the miners in the main hold yelped over the com line.

"Of course. Which means I'm only… three times the pilot you are?" Atton replied, not taking his eyes off his scopes, scrutinizing the orbital drift charts as he did so.

"He's also playing pazaak, and flying with his feet," a second miner interjected, before Atton could say it. Rand didn't care. His mouth tended to operate with its own auto-pilot, letting him focus on the important things.

Like not dying.

Sigma 279 was a _terrible_ asteroid to attempt to set up automated drills on. It had too much rotational spin, and liked to stay closer to _larger_ asteroids… and it was _just_ big enough to attract the smaller meteoroids like flies to a carcass.

It took Atton seven minutes of rather intricate dancing to maneuver the clumsy orehauler into a synchronous orbit of the two hundred meter long asteroid. From there he managed to "land" the ship by securing the landing claws into the rock surface, directly over sealed cavern. More like a bubble in the rock, but it was large enough to house the drilling equipment and droids.

No landing thrusters were used. Nothing that could generate sufficient heat to set off the fuel.

Atton reinforced the deflector shields, diverting power from engines to do so. It was a preset.

"Alright, everybody out before we explode," Atton drawled into the ship's com, as he pulled out his pazaak deck. His part was done. Now the diehard idiots in the cargo hold could earn their hazard pay.

The boxy floor of the cargo hold had retracted, revealing the surface of the asteroid. In about… ten minutes, the miners should have excavated deep enough to reach the twenty-meter diameter bubble of space below, and start installing the equipment.

Atton waited _fifteen_ minutes, long enough for everyone to clear out of the cargo bay. An emergency portable scanner was kept onboard, used primarily to detect peragian fuel deposits, in case of an accident. Rescue crews cutting through cave-ins, or hull plating might hit a pocket… and then no more asteroid, possibly no more asteroid field.

The scanner had _other_ materials it could identify at a range of up to six hundred meters.

Like duratanium.

Atton carefully wrote the coordinates down on a scrap of flimsi, relative to the automated beacon that was being set up, as part of the drilling team's efforts.

Easy credits.

((()))

"Any luck, admiral?" Sergeant Jordo asked quietly. He sat in the passenger seat of the military air car, despite ostensibly serving as Admiral Onasi's "valet."

Carth liked to fly, something he rarely got to do after being shoe-horned into admiralty.

"No," Carth said shortly, weaving the car through the early morning Coruscant air traffic. He doubled back, obviously checking to see if anyone was tailing them, and not stalling.

"Does he still think you know where Revan and Bastila are hiding?" Jordo asked, double checking the calibration of his blaster rifle.

"I don't see any other reason to _keep_ inviting me to these luncheons," Carth said bitterly.

The Chancellor had decided to keep Revan's involvement a secret, and had used Bastila Shan as the Republic's publicity symbol, for Republic morale, and as a photogenic hero of the Republic. He'd attempted to coerce her cooperation, over the protests of the Jedi High Council (who had wanted nothing to do with her, since learning that she had _fallen_ to the dark side, _another_ carefully guarded secret, kept from the masses and the Jedi at large), by using Revan's identity, and his war crimes, as blackmail.

That morale imploded rather spectacularly three months after the conclusion of the Jedi Civil War when Bastila Shan had gone off-script at a Republic rally.

Personally, Carth rather preferred _her_ speech, to the propaganda doggerel Cressa had been forcing her to regurgitate. The woman essentially told the crowed that she was no puppet, and neither were they… and told them the truth. About the war, Revan, and the Chancellor.

Security forces had tried to cut off the broadcast, or escort Bastila away from the podium. Neither attempt was successful, as a suspiciously large contingent of the crowd seemed to possess military training, and did not permit the security forces access.

Carth did _not_ however, mistake the man piloting the air car that had plucked Revan and Bastila from the riot.

Canderous Ordo… the mandalorian leader of Clan Ordo.

What hurt Carth, was that neither Revan, nor Bastila had told _him_ about the escape plan. He hadn't been included, but Canderous had.

With his PR campaign in shambles, Tol Cressa had shoved Carth into the limelight, and used him as a surrogate hero. Hence the sudden jump to admiral, and the luncheons. There'd been extensive spin-doctoring as well, so that Cressa could ride out the accusations of scandal. The man was an excellent politician.

It didn't matter. It was what it was… and Carth had an outer rim to safeguard.

"Jordo. I think it's time I join the fleet I'm commanding," Carth said thoughtfully.

"Shouldn't be a problem. As long as you don't run it by the Supreme Chancellor," the commando observed quietly.

"I may be the worst admiral in two hundred years, but I'm still one of the best captains we have left," Carth grinned mirthlessly.

"Dustil's not going to like it," Jordo predicted.

"He's on Corellia. Why would he care?" Carth said caustically.

"You promised to be at the wedding," Jordo reminded him, reaching for the data pad that held Carth's itinerary. Carth hated the damned thing.

"I said I would try," Carth corrected.

Sergeant Jordo was silent for a time, thoughtfully watching the cityscape flash past.

"Admiral… look at everything you tried and succeeded. You managed to end the war. Compared to that… failing to appear at your only son's wedding… that's not failure. That's deliberate," the ex-sith commando captain said softly.

Carth scowled, but didn't shout at the commando.

"Besides sir, it's a rather durasteel-clad reason to leave the capital…" Jordo pointed out helpfully.

((()))

"So, Brynna, about that date…"

Brynna Corro sighed, and looked up from her report, "I said _no_ , Rand. Why don't you pester someone else, I'm busy, and you're not injured," she said sharply.

"Brynna, you know I only have eyes for you… and I have this pain, right here…" the rogue said slyly, tracing an outline around his heart.

"You don't have a heart," Brynna said coldly, cycling to last week's roster, to double check some of the finer details.

Atton Rand frowned at the beautiful and completely _unattainable_ doctor.

Of course, that just made her so much more desirable. _Cold on the outside, plasma on the inside._

With a shrug, the man left the medical ward, and headed back towards the habitat level.

"Atton, buddy, thought I'd missed you," a big miner said loudly, clapping Atton painfully on the back outside the turbolift. Atton winced, and bit back the snide retort on his lips. Insulting customers wasn't exactly healthy.

"Coorta… _yeah_ , good to see you," Atton said, skirting the edge between sarcasm and enthusiasm. A scrap of flimsi exchanged hands, followed shortly by several very large denomination credit chits.

"Good catching up, we should do this more often," Atton said, rolling his eyes, as he stepped into the turbolift. At least business was good… albeit stupid.

The lift doors opened, and Atton stepped out, right into a miner.

"Sorry, friend," Atton said reflexively, then realized his mistake.

Not miners.

Security.

"Hey Torin. Still on for tonight's Pazaak game?" Atton asked the muscular aqualish thug.

Torin shook his head, the bulbous, faceted eyes throwing light as he did so, _[No. The chief wants you though.]_

Atton was getting a bad feeling…

((()))

Choy dragged the power generator from a _decommissioned_ ore hauler through the hanger bay on a grav-sled. It should be compatible, or at least _mostly_ compatible. 3C-FD was already patching the coolant lines on the damaged freighter, while FS-907 lurked protectively nearby, attracted by the heat and flashes of the welding torch.

There was just one problem, Choy realized. She needed a heavy lift unit to _hold_ the smaller generator in place, while she attached it, since it didn't fit the original seat of the damaged generator.

"Statement: greetings organic, I hope the day finds you well."

Choy spun, spotting a gun-metal gray bipedal droid behind her. She glanced at its feet, wondering why she hadn't heard it on the metal deck. Some people surfaced the metal soles of droids so they wouldn't clatter so loudly on metal decks… but this droid wasn't muffled. It was _silent_.

Then she looked at the servomotors of the droid. The housing was slightly oversized, possibly indicating additional power… or cheaper construction.

"What's your sustained lift rating?" she asked.

The droid tilted its head to the side, an oddly human affectation, "Reply: Under proper conditions, four hundred kilograms, without causing structural fatigue."

Choy glanced at the generator, ran a few quick calculations,

"Can you hold this generator while I mount it?" she asked.

"Statement: I would be delighted to, organic."

Without further delay, the droid squatted, gripped the conical generator, and lifted.

"Query: how would you like this unit positioned?"

"I need to mate the power conduits, and marry the coolant lines together," Choy said, clambering up onto the engine cowling, directing the gray droid, wiping excess oil and grime on the hips of her coverall.

She'd need to weld some struts to reinforce the housing, to keep the generator in place during flight. Just in case.

"Three-see, grab some J-struts for me, variable lengths, and the fusion torch," Choy said, as she quickly clipped the power conduits into the generator.

She also kept half an eye on the gray droid, in case it started to show motor fatigue. Some droids didn't realize that their factory-floor specifications altered over time with years of wear and tear. Or improper maintenance.

"I don't recognize your model, what are you?" Choy asked the droid, hoping for a better estimate of its abilities. She'd hate to damage a droid, especially one that was merely assisting her.

If it was possible for a droid to glow, this one did… although whoever had designed its face had not done the protocol droid any favors. Choy thought it looked vaguely sinister. Something about the sweep of its forehead and the placement of the burning orange photoreceptors. Blue might have been a better choice with its gray color palette.

"Proud Answer: I am an HK series protocol droid, skilled in trans-organic relations and communications. This model has been responsible for the facilitation of communication and termination of hostilities numerous times across the galaxy. I am fluent in over six thousand forms of communication and am also capable of nuances of expression ranging from irony to veiled threats," the droid said smugly.

Choy had been away from main stream society for years, but she didn't think she'd ever come across a droid with this much… _character?_

"Veiled threats?" she echoed, curious. Protocol droids were generally programmed to ingratiate themselves to those around them, because of their vulnerability… which unfortunately tended to make them annoy the very beings they were trying to befriend. This droids had far better articulation points for its joints compared to most protocol droids. She guessed it might even be able to mimic human strides…

"Clarification: Oh, yes. Sometimes the facilitation of communications and termination of hostilities requires the use of every weapon in one's... _verbal arsenal,_ " the droid chuckled, "The unspoken threat of violence to a listener's loved ones, or if possible, their entire planet, can effectively break the deadlock in even the most stubborn of negotiations."

Choy frowned, and her initial enthusiasm was beginning to wane, replaced by wariness, and she didn't like how flippant this droid was about casual threats of murder. Especially since it was just a protocol droid. She hoped.

Some pilots became jumpy on long hauls, especially with clients. It wasn't unheard of for some to modify droids into emergency bodyguards… just in case. The problem lay in that most were novice programmers… so the "combat protocols" tended to have hair-trigger activations…

3C-FD arrived, with the brawnier FS-907 pushing another grav sled, this one loaded with roughly a dozen paired durasteel J-struts in varying lengths, as well as a fusion welder, and black-out goggles. The utility droid pointedly held the goggles out to Choy with its fine grasper arm.

 _[Safety is priority]_ it burbled.

"Yes. Thank you Three-see," Choy chuckled. After a few quick measurements inside the engine compartment, she hopped down off the engine cowling and whipped the goggles over her eyes, cutting the J-struts to proper lengths. It also let her ignore the fact that the HK droid kept watching her.

((()))

"I was framed. Really," Atton said, lounging on the cell's flat bunk.

" _Right_ ," Security Chief Mavrel said sarcastically, drawing out the word for emphasis.

"So, someone doctored those holo-images? And the prints we found on the contraband were planted, no doubt," the chief growled.

"Of course," Atton said agreeably, folding his hands behind his head.

The chief shook his head, and sat down heavily at his desk, which coincidentally faced the handful of cells, allowing him to keep an eye on any prisoners, _and_ do paperwork.

"I never suspected _you_ Rand… Coorta, but not you. I thought you were smarter than this," the chief glared. Then he stabbed a button on his console,

"All right - all hands, especially you, _Coorta_ \- listen up because I'm not going to say this again."

The angry little man's words echoed outside, and throughout the facility, set to maximum volume, despite Administrator Landrow's wishes. Mavrel took what few pleasures he could in a job as _stressful_ as his.

"The next one of you juma-heads to try and smuggle a blaster, or so help me, any sort of military grade frag weapons into _my facility_ is going to take a long walk out the _airlock."_

Atton quirked an eyebrow. Hopefully that was hyperbole… but maybe not. The entire peragus asteroid field was technically an orbital ring, since it was the planetary debris that had been ejected from Peragus II after a mining accident ignited a pocket of peragian fuel… which exploded, and in turn cooked off another pocket… and another… and another… until roughly a sixth of the planet had achieved escape velocity _from itself_.

Mavrel took a moment to inhale before finishing, "So if I catch _any_ of you with anything other than sonic charges or mining drills, I'll _burn_ you _and_ your contract. Security out."

Atton clapped politely from his cell.

"I don't suppose you'd let me have a holozine…" Atton said neutrally.

Mavrel didn't even acknowledge his presence. Apparently the man was taking Atton's duplicity rather hard.

"That's what I thought…" Atton sighed.

"As soon as the next freighter arrives, you're off my station, and on your way to a _very_ lengthy prison-sentence," Mavrel said briskly.

Which was as much as Atton had expected… so… about a month of _this_.

((()))

Choy scrambled up the side of the freighter, spurning the climbing harness 3C-FD was still wailing at her to use. She'd been climbing ships for over a decade. She'd never fallen yet, and it was a quick fix. She just need to connect the—

 ** _HEAR ME._**

Choy blinked, before something washed over her. She felt her fingers loosen… and she started to fall. Choy screamed, as waves of crawling fingernails and claws ripped at her mind. Then she hit the deck.

"Choy!" someone screamed, as if from a great distance. Choy didn't hear.

 ** _FEEL MY WORDS._**

Beneath the agony, Choy heard something. A note… from a song she had not heard in twelve years. A song that had once been all that she was. It whispered where once the song roared. But after so much silence…

 ** _I NEED YOU._**

Choy wept, not from the pain, but from the soothing touch hidden within—

—and then it stopped.

She was alone once more.

Alone in the silence.

"Medical! Get me medical!" someone shouted, as Choy retreated into darkness.

 _Too late. There's no one here anymore_ , Choy thought sadly.

They could look all they wanted but no one would find her. There was nothing left to see.

((()))

"Did you see what caused this?" Brynna demanded, not looking at Sully. The dock master shook his head helplessly.

"She just fell."

The medical officer stared at the bio readings on the scanner.

 _Two broken ribs. A rib fragment perforated the upper lobe of the liver. Spleen's ruptured. Right clavicle and right scapula fractured in three places each. Minor skull fracture, and—_

"I've got a _brain bleed_!" Brynna shouted, as the med droid began prepping surgery.

((()))

Recalculation was required. The target had been positively identified as Meetra Surik: excommunicated Jedi Knight and former general in the Republic military (honorably discharged). The bounty stipulation was for live capture and "overall good condition," with a reward of two _million_ republic credits.

Simple abduction and smuggling from the hanger bay was no longer feasible, since the target was now under observation in the medical facilities… a place any absence would be noted in minutes, if not seconds.

HK-50 considered the possible methods of target extraction available. The direct approach was feasible, considering the lack of appropriate blaster weaponry present, but chances of identification, and pursuit by official forces was unacceptably high. Eliminating all witnesses was complicated by the explosive terrain.

A quandary, but one that HK-50 felt fully up to the task of solving. The situation clearly necessitated additional assets and further planning. After all, any droid could kill an organic. That was a simple service. What HK-50 produced was _art_.

Unfortunately, art was never _free_.

((()))

"That was… amazing" a voice intruded on Brynna's thoughts, as she wiped the blood off her surgery table. The medical officer twitched. She'd forgotten all about Sully during the two hour operation.

"I don't even know if she has family," Sully said, worried. Brynna frowned at the man, uncertain what the conversation was about, then remembered he had something of a shine for the antisocial mechanic… which was the primary reason he kept changing his appearance every few weeks.

"Thank you for carrying her here so quickly. You can return to work," Brynna said.

"I just have a few reports. I'll stay here, incase she—" Sully started.

"Dock master. Let me rephrase. Get out of my med ward, and let me do my job," Brynna said coldly.

At least he hadn't made any noise while she was operating.

Brynna went back to her scanner. The patient was in stable condition, but appeared to still be suffering neurological issues from the fall.

There was a _lot_ of neurological activity, even though the patient was unconscious. But the patterns _weren't_ right, nor were the levels. The patient's current level of Beta waves would be appropriate for a _zeltron_. Not a human. Brynna scanned Choy Verdan's medical file, but didn't see any disorders, diseases, or non-human ancestors.

"No signs of mind altering substances, no current cerebral bleeds…" Brynna muttered, paging through the scans.

"Its almost looks like a seizure…" the wave levels were correct, but not the pattern.

It certainly didn't look anything like the activity found in most closed head injury cases…

((()))

"I found it," the man said, his gray beard neatly trimmed, in contrast to the ragged tunic he wore.

"Found what?" the mandalorian asked, distracted, as he tried to feed the screaming baby in the crook of his arm. It was harder than it appeared.

"It's on Peragus," the old man said, cackling.

"What's on Peragus?" the mandalorian asked patiently, ignoring the milk that had been sprayed across his armor by a rather smug six kilogram infant.

"Whatever's causing the blank spots in the futures. It's on Peragus," the old man said, absently handing a blotting cloth to the mandalorian.

"Or maybe you're just getting old, Jolee," the mandalorian chuckled, carefully wiping off his armor without dropping the babe.

Jolee Bindo scowled at his friend.

"I'm not getting old, I'm _already_ old, damn it," Jolee grumbled into his beard.

"So retire," the mandalorian said bluntly, as he gently rocked his child.

"I keep trying… but there's still things that need doing. It never ends," Jolee growled.

The mandalorian raised an eyebrow at Jolee pointedly.

" _Fine..._ I don't want to stop. Retirement's too boring. Even with the kids tagging along," Jolee sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Those _kids_ are almost in their thirties…" the mandalorian chuckled.

Jolee cracked an eye open to glare at his friend. "I'm more than twice their age. Therefore, _kids_."

A pregnant silence fell within the cramped living room, as Jolee Bindo watched the man that called himself Kyle Draven feed a child. After six minutes, Jolee gave in,

"Revan… come with me. We both know there's something out there killing off Jedi, something that can't be sensed. Maybe it's based in Peragus. I'm old. I can't do it alone," Jolee sighed.

"You aren't alone. You have Kel and Lashowe," Kyle said, standing his ground.

Jolee studied Revan for several minutes, through the Force.

"You aren't going to change your mind," Jolee decided, with sadness and frustration in equal measure.

"I've gone to war twice, Jolee. Neither war ended how I intended it to when I began it," Revan said quietly. Something lurked within the mandalorian's tangled mind, and Jolee's mental probe edged closer.

"You're afraid," Jolee blurted, startled.

Revan looked up, meeting Jolee's eyes.

"I never had anything to lose before. Now I do… and I can't leave them, Jolee. I'm sorry. My wife and children comes first," Revan said firmly.

"I could always tell Carth where you're hiding…" Jolee threatened facetiously. It was an empty threat.

"And I could always kill you if you do," Revan said, his face hardening, brown eyes cold in an instant.

Revan's threat was not empty. They never were.


	2. Chapter 2

Jolee dropped the Ebon Hawk out of hyperspace, "You did send that transmission, right?"

The copilot nodded, "Yes, before we left republic space. It should actually be arriving now…"

"Hope Carth listens better than Kyle," Jolee muttered under his breath.

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?" Kel Algwin asked. Jolee glanced lazily over at his pseudo apprentice.

"It's a terrible idea," Jolee said bluntly.

"And why, pray tell, are we attempting it?" Lashowe Algwin asked over the com from the dorsal turret of the Ebon Hawk.

"Because I'm old, crotchety, and something here just won't stop itching, like that rash I got in the Shadowlands," Jolee grumbled into his beard, as he wove the nimble craft through the oncoming asteroids.

Kel carefully did not inquire as to the location of _any_ rash.

"Peragus is signaling us. We aren't on their registry of authorized ships," Kel said, hand to his headset.

"If we dock they will impound our ship, pending investigation," Kel warned.

"See any warships?" Jolee asked flippantly.

"… no…" Kel said reluctantly.

"Then I don't care. _Lashowe, you in labor yet_?" Jolee called down the open corridor behind him.

The succinct reply that returned via the intercom told Jolee everything he needed to know.

"Jolee, they sound serious," Kel said, still listening to the transmission.

"Tell 'em we have a medical emergency," Jolee snapped, weaving his ship between a pair of asteroids, to avoid a larger storm approaching on the port bow.

"Lash isn't due for another couple of days," Kel said, startled, "That's not exactly an _emergency_ ," he said doubtfully.

"If she doesn't push that kid out soon, _I'll_ murder her. Therefore, it's a medical emergency. Your wife's life depends on us getting into that facility. And I'm tired of catching babies. Especially hairy ones. Someone else can do it this time," Jolee growled.

"Oh. Alright," Kel said, taken aback.

Jolee glanced at Kel sharply, "Well? _Tell them that_."

"Right," Kel twitched, reaching for the transmission controls.

"And put some feeling into it," Bindo snorted.

((()))

Mavrel crouched at the edge of the blast zone, studying the forensic scanner, and the rough walls of the airless tunnel. He hated EVA suits. His nose was itching, and he couldn't scratch it.

"It wasn't their fault, chief. Goss and his team weren't sloppy, they _always_ double checked their work," Xen, the delta-shift mine boss said uncomfortably.

"Course they did. Sullustants are compulsive that way," Mavrel grunted.

"Anyone see what happened here?" Mavrel asked quietly.

"This was a new claim. No sensors set up yet, all we have is what maintenance can pull off the suit cams, and anything off the droid's automated memory dump," Xen said, nervously.

"Droid?" Mavrel asked, "No one said anything about a droid."

"It was setting the sonic charges," Xen muttered.

"Apparently not very well," Mavrel grunted. He didn't even _see_ anything that looked like it belonged to a droid.

Poor bastards.

((()))

Jolee walked down the Ebon Hawk's ramp, hands up, clearly empty.

"Hello, folks, we've got a pregnant woman," he said, flashing his most dazzling simpleton smile.

Two men, armed with stun batons and sonic pistols glanced at each other, then Jolee. They lowered the weapons more or less in unison.

"Can she walk?" the nikto guard on the left asked.

"I'd… fetch a chair, sonny," Jolee said doubtfully.

The nikto blinked, without comprehension. The human male though understood.

"Medical, we're going to need a hover chair in Hanger three-twelve," the guard told his comlink in clipped tones.

"She wanted to give birth at home. Problem is, home's still a week away…" Jolee rambled to thin air. Neither guard was paying attention.

Perfect.

Jolee stretched out with his senses. He couldn't feel _anything_ here, as far as the future went. Something was blocking his sight.

They were in the right place, or else, would be soon.

((()))

The man was meticulously groomed, though no effort had been made to hide the graying of hair at his temples. His uniform was also meticulously pressed and folded, thanks to his personal protocol droid (a perk of being captain). At the moment, he was staring out the viewport of his cabin, at the empty star field beyond. It had been three years to the day… Three years since the Sith were broken above the raging star, their power shattered with the loss of Darth Malak, and the Star Forge.

Captain Raxton swirled the ice in his glass, before making a silent toast to the ghosts that stood at his shoulder, and downed the whiskey in a single draw. Republic losses had been heavy in that last-ditch offensive… dozens of experienced captains and crews had met their end there, leaving Raxton as one of the few relics that remained of the _old guard_ , that had served the Republic fleet before the Mandalorian wars.

Raxton refilled his glass dourly, cringing at the word _fleet_.

Oh, there was still a fleet, of course, but it was _half_ the size it had been before the wars. Too many crews, hulls, and captains had left the Republic's ranks, from battle, attrition, or even outright defection.

 _We're rebuilding_ , Raxton thought with dark humor, remembering the optimistic holo-ads that flooded the planetary civilian net, an almost psychological assault. It was propaganda, mostly.

Malak had hurt them badly, and the Republic had been weak from the Mandalorians to begin with…

On nights like this… Raxton wondered if the Republic would ever truly recover…

The Republic was holding on by its _fingertips_ , on the edge of total collapse. There just weren't enough ships, and too much territory. Pirates and other criminal factions, emboldened by the scarcity of authority, had grown aggressive, and preyed heavily on the commercial shipping lanes… which was slowly strangling the Republic; commerce was their lifeblood. Fewer and fewer Hammer-head class cruisers were being built, instead, the smaller, faster, _Foray-class_ corvette was coming into its own, as an economical stop-gap measure for combating piracy.

"Captain, there's a priority transmission coming in for you," Commander Torell said, interrupting his captain's dark musings.

"Route it through to my terminal," the aging officer sighed, setting his drink and bottle aside for next year's toast.

Captain Raxton stared at the encrypted transmission… this was from the top, he realized uneasily. He used his personal command codes to unlock the encryption on the feed. As soon as the man's face appeared on the screen… Raxton's gout began to flare up.

"Captain Raxton, it's been a while," Admiral Onasi said grimly. The admiral was nearly twenty years Raxton's junior, but Raxton didn't begrudge Onasi his rank. If anything, he pitied the man, forced by politics into accepting such a promotion… one of the burdens a hero had to carry, Raxton supposed.

"You look old," Raxton said, raising an eyebrow.

"All admirals look old," Carth said, but he wasn't smiling.

That wasn't a good sign.

"Captain, I have a mission for you…"

"Respectfully admiral, we have a mission. The pirates near Telos have captured three bulk freighters in the last month alone," Captain Raxton said calmly.

"I know how thin the pickets are near Telos," Admiral Onasi sighed, "But this could be far more critical to our efforts. It shouldn't delay your patrol significantly."

((()))

Jolee stared forlornly into his drink. It was alcoholic. Probably. It was also a rather unappetizing sludge of grays and browns. It did _not_ appear to be something that had any business being near his mouth.

Damn droid bartenders. Jolee stared suspiciously from the corner of his eye at the droid in question. It didn't _seem_ to be malfunctioning. No one in the mess hall appeared to be keeling over dead… but Jolee decided he wasn't _that_ thirsty.

"Hey… I knows you… don't aye?" a man slurred, his hip bumping into the table Jolee sat at. The sludge in Jolee's cup didn't even ripple. Nope. Definitely _not_ drinking that.

"Depends. Do I owe you money?" Jolee asked.

The miner's cheeks were quite red, and he was freely sweating through his brown coverall. The air was quite cool though.

But the man was apparently quite intoxicated.

"Money?" the miner asked.

"I owes peoples moneys… nobodies owes _me_ moneys though," the miner confided, as if slightly mystified by the whole institution.

"Well in that case… want a free drink?" Jolee smiled, gesturing at the suspicious cup on the table.

The drunk leaned over, looked into the cup, then at Jolee.

"Whys you get a Rock?"

"No my friend. The droid assured me it was a drink. Not a rock," Jolee chided.

"Swot is called. Rock," the miner answered.

"Clearly the Force is thick with this one," Jolee mumbled into his beard.

Unfortunately, the miner was still bent over, one eye centimeters above the cup of fluid, and heard Jolee. His face lit up.

"I do knows you!" he squealed. Jolee stared sadly at the giggling, squealing man. Alcohol makes fools of all…

"Jeeda! Jeeda!" he crowed.

"Someone help Coras back to the dorm," a miner in the back corner of the mess hall grumbled.

"Saws you ona screen! Lossa metals! Jeedaye," _Coras_ grinned, triumphantly standing upon the slain corpse of his ethanol soaked memories.

"On second thought young man, no more booze for you," Jolee decided.

"Hold on. Yeah… the old guy in the tatty robes! That big awards ceremony, five years ago," the miner that had named Coras to the room said slowly, staring at Jolee.

 _Tatty?_ Jolee scowled, and slowly stood.

"Alright tach-face, exactly _who_ are you calling _tatty?_ " Jolee rumbled.

"You don't scare _me_ Jedi! There's a lot more of us than you!" the man said, slamming his fist into the table. His eyes were slightly glassy.

 _Hell. Is everyone drunk here?_ Jolee grimaced. _Obvious answer. Stupid question._

"Coorta, shut _up_ ," a skinny man said insistently, tugging on _Coorta_ 's sleeve.

"You think I'm a _Jedi_?" Jolee asked, putting as much crotchety incredulousness on his face as he could muster (which was consequently, quite a lot).

He tossed off his robe, paring down to his boots, leggings, and leather tunic.

This was going to get ugly.

"See any lightsabers, boy?" Jolee guffawed.

That seemed to be a stumper for poor Coras.

"No," he slurred, staring helplessly at Jolee, as if asking him to make it all make sense.

"Don't mean nuth'in. Coulda lost it or sold it," Coorta sneered, jutting his jaw at Jolee.

"Okay if I'm a Jedi… then here's a taste of my force!" Jolee cackled, snatching up his abandoned drink _with his hand_ and strong arming it into Coorta's face.

 _I do owe Coras an apology. That was indeed a rock,_ Jolee decided with a straight face, observing the spectacularly broken nose on the big, dripping miner.

 _And three, two, one… brawl!_

Jolee was getting too old for this.

((()))

"We're supposed to be sinking fuel siphons into the 32-18 asteroid shelf right now," Jinas said nervously.

"Forget the siphons. You know that old man from the freighter?" Coorta hissed impatiently.

"The one that broke your nose?" Coras asked helpfully.

"Yes _Coras_ , the one that broke my nose with a cheap shot, he's a Jedi," Coorta grumbled.

"If he's one of the Jedi… we can't have him walking around here!" Jinas panicked.

Coorta glared at Jinas until the cowardly little coreslime could get hold of his bladder.

"I thought all the Jedi were wiped out in the civil war. Weren't they?" Coras mused.

Coorta simply stared at the idiot, trying to see if the big man was trying to lighten the mood… or if he really was that stupid. If all the Jedi died in the war, who was at the award ceremony—

Coorta decided he just didn't care.

"Guess they missed one," he said. Coras nodded sagely, accepting the words as honest truth.

"Listen. I did some checking, and that bounty on Nar Shaddaa's still live. Two million credits for a live Jedi," Coorta said, a slow grin splitting his face.

Jinas stared at Coorta, dumbstruck, "You want to sell the Jedi to the Exchange? Have you been chewing spice?"

Coorta shook his head, "Not since last month."

Jinas shook his head compulsively, "Coorta… there's no way the officers will go for that."

"That bounty is our meal ticket off this damned rock," Coorta growled, his knuckles popping from the tightness of his fists.

"They'll lock us up for sure," Jinas sighed.

"We'll just have to improvise," Coorta said, revealing the trump card in his sleeve.

Jinas stared at it, eyes wide as saucers.

"We're all going to die," he decreed.

"Just follow my lead, idiot," Coorta snapped.

((()))

Lashowe sat up on the biobed, her face rigid, fingers clenched to the plastic frame.

"That… was unusual," the blonde woman whispered, blinking rapidly.

"Congratulations. You've entered labor," Brynna said, looking up from her datapad briefly, before returning to her scans of the comatose Choy, floating in the kolto tank.

"Scanner estimates your next contraction in… sixty-four minutes," Brynna said.

"That long?" the blonde woman demanded, irritated.

"Yes. That long. Your cervix hasn't finished dilating yet," the medical officer replied, uninterested in being drawn into an argument with the woman.

"Medical, we have wounded en route," a voice blared over the medbay's com system.

"Acknowledged, how many?" Brynna asked.

"Seven. Burns and shrapnel mostly," the voice answered. Brynna recognized the voice as belonging to Officer Mavrel.

 _Burns?_

Brynna had seven additional kolto tanks primed and ready, just as the first of the wounded arrived. Two men and a woman entered. One of the men was being supported by the other two, and seemed to be bleeding from a leg wound.

"Oh-five, prep surgery," Brynna called. The skeletal medical droid nodded, and quickly clattered away, laying out surgical tools and sterilizing them for use.

((()))

"Sir, I don't know. It's like their behavior cores are undergoing binary decay, but I can't find the source... this shouldn't be happening."

Mavrel stared blankly at his victim. The man's left eye was twitching slightly.

"It. Isn't. Happening," Mavrel mulled over those three words thoughtfully.

Atton hid his snicker, from the holding cell. This aught to be good.

"Well. That _is_ reassuring, Faro," Mavrel said, smiling, as he stood up from his chair.

Then he swept everything off his desk to the floor in a thundering crash of odds and ends. One was a repeater display. The small imaging unit cracked magnificently (in Atton's opinion), sending glass _everywhere_.

The maintenance officer cowered, trying to cringe into himself, it seemed, but didn't utter a sound.

Mavrel stayed behind the desk. It was the only way to keep from assaulting the idiot, " So the next time we nearly have a breach in the ventilation tunnels, I can just close my eyes and pretend it's my _imagination?_ " the man roared, although he practically screamed the last word. Spittle actually hit Faro's face… from two meters away.

Impressive punctuation.

Mavrel grabbed the edges of his metal desk, veins bulging in his scarred hands, looking as if the only reason he wasn't bludgeoning the poor man to death with the desk was because it was bolted to the deck. After several seconds of angry breathing, Mavrel opened his eyes, glaring at the maintenance officer.

Mavrel's tone was deadly quiet, the calm making the violence all the more terrifying, "Faro. I want to know the damage these droids can do if they start mining us instead of asteroid rock."

Faro was frozen for several seconds with fear, before he whispered, "Sir, these droids aren't combat models... their mining drills are weaker and less accurate than sonic blasters. I doubt those droids could even hit one of us—"

"Are you blind? What about the miners in med bay?" Mavrel snarled.

Faro flinched back.

"I want these droids taken off-line until you can isolate, and fix the problem," Mavrel ordered.

"But, without the droids our productivity will drop by nearly ninety percent, we won't meet our quota—" Faro said anxiously.

Mavrel's patience snapped. He rounded his desk, and slammed Faro against the bulkhead, pinning him there.

"Shut. Down. The. _Droids_ ," Mavrel hissed through his teeth before he shoved Faro towards the door.

The maintenance officer didn't look back, scrambling on hands and knees out the door, shifting to two feet and breaking into a sprint.

 _Idiot._

Mavrel pulled out his comlink, "Torin, break out the ion weaponry, and issue it to the security forces. Spare sonic charges wouldn't hurt either."

 _[Do you want to issue a code three alert?]_ the aqualish asked.

"No… just make it clear a code three might be issued at anytime," Mavrel replied.

"It's probably sabotage," Atton pointed out.

Mavrel glared at him silently.

"The accidents started after that unidentified freighter docked…" Rand shrugged.

The security officer didn't argue, simply sat at the desk, and began drawing up contingency plans. Atton had merely spoken what Mavrel already suspected.

"You going to clean up the mess?" Atton asked innocently, staring at the debris on the deck.

((()))

"What did you want to talk to me about? I have to suit up and drill the 32-19K asteroid claim within the hour, so talk quick," Coorta said, shrugging into the heavy EVA suit, his comlink sitting on the nearby bench of the locker room. Everyone was pulling triple shifts with the droids offline… and they still weren't going to hit quota…

"I heard you had plans for the Jedi - about selling him to the Exchange," Faro said

Coorta snatched up the comlink, dialing the volume down, even as his heart beat wildly. He didn't _see_ anyone else in the locker room, but it had several aisles…

"I'm not that stupid," he denied. _I've got a rat in my crew…_

"Really? I've seen the logs you've been accessing. Maybe the two of us could work something out," Faro observed quietly.

"It doesn't matter what we work out, we wouldn't make one hyperspace jump before what's left of the Republic was on us," Coorta challenged.

"I can cover our tracks and ensure the Republic is not alerted to our presence," Faro said dismissively, as if it were child's play.

Coorta frowned at the comlink, "Well... I may know someone. He works this system on special jobs. He may want to know details, but I might be able to arrange transport…"

"I've seen the logs. I know you've already asked him and given the details - once he agrees, I can handle the rest," Faro chided.

Coorta scowled at the comlink angrily, " _Handle the rest?_ Like how?" _Arrogant little—_

"When the time comes, I'll contact you via comlink. Maintenance out," Faro said, as he cut the link.

Coorta angrily threw the comlink at the wall, breathing hard. It was a durable _Arakyd_ model though, and easily able to withstand Coorta's abuse. It's why he'd purchased it in the first place.

Still muttering, the man retrieved his undamaged comlink, and stomped out of the locker room, never realizing a second pair of ears had overheard _both_ sides of the conversation.

The diminutive, big eared sullustan trembled, cursing his excellent hearing, and the dilemma he now found himself in.

((()))

"Boss, why we really doing this?" an oil stained tech called, from the back of the tiny office.

"Everyone knows these droids needed upgrades months ago," Faro lied nervously,

"And with the recent malfunctions, safety concerns supersede productivity quotas."

Faro chewed his lip for a second, "Start processing the batches, and double check processor integrity, specifically for binary decay."

The room emptied of grumbling technicians, leaving a gray protocol droid behind.

"What are you doing here?" Faro asked. He didn't recognize the model.

"Statement: Apologies, master, I am a recent acquisition for your department, in light of the recent… accidents," the droid answered humbly.

"Why would maintenance need a protocol droid?" Faro asked, nonplussed.

"Statement: you do not, master, however I am not _merely_ a protocol droid. I have extensive experience with maintaining droid subroutines, and _troubleshooting…_ "

Faro realized after a moment that fate was smiling on him.

"You're a coding analysis droid?" Faro asked hopefully.

"Answer: _correct_ , master," the droid agreed.

"Start analyzing the recovered mining droid, from the shooting incident in the tunnels," Faro said, pointing towards the nearby work bench.

"Reply: I have already done so, master. I apologize if it was presumptuous of me, but I began to carry out my duties immediately upon assignment to this department," the droid apologized graciously.

Faro smiled, relieved, "Not at all. Have you found anything? Coding isn't my specialty," he admitted.

"Statement: I have. This droid was the victim of intrusive software subroutines. Rather recent installations too, I might add."

Faro stared, horrified at the droid, "Sabotage?"

The droid nodded.

"Clarification: when a specified signal was received, the droid's mining protocols were keyed to switch to _mine all organics_. The signal was received at 1700 hours, which resulted in the injury of five organics, and the eventual deaths of two organics."

Faro was at a loss. This wasn't a malfunction, this was sabotage. He wasn't sure how to combat _sabotage_.

"Is there any way to tell who performed the sabotage?" Faro asked.

"Statement: Affirmative. I found a security tag on the access log, time-stamped when the installation was performed," the droid answered, holding out a datapad for inspection.

Faro eagerly looked over the information.

"But… this code is for Atton Rand. He's being held by security," Faro said.

"Observation: the suspect was apprehended six hours _after_ this installation. There is also no means available to ascertain from current records how many mining droids may have been sabotaged since the suspect commenced operations at this facility," the droid reported heavily.

"It will take _weeks_ to comb through our droids for this protocol cache command," Faro groaned.

"Correction: _hours_ , master. Not weeks. I could be linked to the mining droid command overseer. It coordinates work assignments and issues updates to the droid host—" the protocol droid began.

"—and piggy-back off the signal to analyze the droids that are linked…" Faro realized, almost drowning in his relief. They might be able to have the droids back to work in less than a day, since the saboteur was safely locked away… work could resume. They might even make quota.

((()))

 _"It's probably sabotage?"_ Mavrel roared, shocking Atton out of his bored nap.

Atton stared guiltily up at the towering man, before remembering he wasn't actually guilty of _that_.

"You would know, wouldn't you?!" Mavrel snarled. He was clutching a stun baton. It was active. The energy field closing off the cell didn't seem quite so solid a barrier now…

"I am _sorely_ tempted to introduce you to the air-lock," Mavrel growled, his faint Corellian accent becoming noticeable. Never a good sign.

He could do it too. Peragus wasn't actually aligned with the Republic, as it was a joint venture between mercenaries and entrepreneurs. As such… Mavrel _was_ the law here.

"I admit I smuggled some merchandise on the side for credits, but I didn't _sabotage_ anything. I live here too, remember?" Atton retorted.

"It's over. Your little plan has failed," Mavrel growled.

"Then it wasn't one of _my_ plans," Atton sneered.

"Your droids won't be coming to free you," Mavrel said, before he reached over, and played with the cell's field settings. The hazy, gossamer gold distortion of the field intensified, until it was opaque… and soundproof.

Isolation. _Great…_ back to mental pazaak…

The light would also make sleep difficult.

((()))

Sien carefully aimed his sonic drill, crumbling the useless rock that surrounded the ore seam of peragian fuel. The sullustan's mind was not completely focused on his task. Such inefficiency greatly distressed him, but not as much as solving his dilemma.

Sien feared Coorta. The human was big, loud, and unreasonable. Sien knew this from experience. Last week Sien had attempted to clarify a discrepancy in the work logs.

Sien had been careful to keep his words as inoffensive as possible, while at the same time attempting to remind Coorta, that proper time keeping was important, and without it, efficiency suffered. Sien was Coorta's superior, after all.

The careful talk had failed.

Coorta could not be reasoned with.

Sien could tell Administrator Landrow… but that would create more trouble, more inefficiency. Faro though… Faro was smaller… more sensible, more Sullustan. Perhaps _he_ could be reasoned with? If no trouble, then no inefficiency.

Yes…

((()))

"I _am_ pushing," Lashowe hissed, her eyes locked on Kel.

"Relax," the dark skinned medical woman said, "Next contraction in ten minutes."

Lashowe considered the applications of telekinesis in childbirth.

She also considered the likelihood of making a mistake in her current frame of mind.

"This is _your_ fault," Lashowe snarled, glaring at Kel.

"It's always the male's fault," the medical woman observed, from where she now stood next to a kolto tank, checking its readouts of the occupant within.

"Yes dear," Kel said. His hand cupped Lashowe's neck, helping support her in the awkward position of childbirth… and eating her pain.

Kel was only _mostly_ useless.

 **(((12 hours later)))**

Atton stopped his mental Pazaak game as he felt the cell shudder slightly, and then everything went dark. But he wasn't unconscious.

"So, who turned off the power?" Atton wondered idly. Either it was a pinpoint strike against the security blister, or the entire Administration level had lost power.

More telling, the emergency back-ups hadn't kicked in…

Which meant the force field that blocked the cell opening probably wouldn't reactivate while he walked through.

Atton considered the ramifications for several seconds.

But in the end, there was never any question of him simply staying put in his cell.

Besides, if it was an emergency, and he threw in a helping hand, he might garner some gratitude from this rock's boss. Or find a way off.

 _And…_ he was bored.

Atton found the security desk with his shin in the dark, and cursed, rubbing at his injury, blindly feeling his way to a wall, then followed it until he felt the manual release for the doors.

As soon as he did, he could hear people screaming… and something that _sounded_ like weapons fire of some kind.

" _Hell_ no," Atton gulped, backing away from the doors. Someone screamed right outside the doors, followed by a wet gurgle, and the staccato of metal clattering on metal, like a giant spider. Atton hustled back to the security terminal, and blindly searched the drawers by touch. Two were locked, and he didn't have the tools to overload them, but the third was unlocked. He _did_ find a glow-rod, which he promptly turned on, to get a look at what else was in the drawer.

He roughly tossed the useless bits out on the floor, pocketing a bag of sweets, and a silver flask of unknown fluid in his jacket pockets… and a comlink. Atton turned it on, but there was so much chatter he turned it off again. Sounded like the facility was under attack, by people with a no-prisoners approach.

Atton decided he'd better hide, quickly, preferably somewhere he could find out what the hell was going on as well.

((()))

 _Do they never clean these things?_ Atton thought darkly, inching through the ventilation system, feeling like a credit between a Hutt's fingers.

"Just two more centimeters, and I'd be able to breathe," Atton grumbled, his wiry physique saving him once again… then his belt caught on a poorly installed vent cover, halting him painfully.

 _"Oooh…"_ he hissed, trying to raise his hips enough to slip off the hook, but his hips were already smashed against the top of the vent to begin with. He backed up, then tried to ease over the protrusion, but once again, he was drawn up short. He couldn't even get a hand down there, his forearm was longer than the shaft was tall.

"Well, damn," he sighed. Atton back up, and put his eye to the offensive vent slats, peering into the dark room below. It was faintly illuminated by the observation windows, and the molten glow of Peragus II's exposed core. There were a couple of motionless bodies… but that was it.

It took him ten minutes to wrestle the vent cover off, but he lost his hold on it, and winced as the piece of metal clattered loudly on the deck.

 _Smooth, Atton, real smooth…_

After five minutes, no one came to investigate the noise… and Atton realized the method he would have to use, to get _out_ of the vent.

Suddenly, the deck looked much farther away.

((()))

 _Awaken…_

Choy opened her eyes, gagging on dead air. A thick, viscous fluid clung to her, surrounding her in a suffocating darkness.

 _NO AIR!_

She struggled against the cloth straps beneath her arms that suspended her in this fluid, trapping her.

 _NO AIR!_

Her flailing, sluggish fingers found an unyielding surface above her, and she scratched at it in terror.

 _NO AIR!_

 _Stop… calm yourself, or you will perish…_

The voice that was not a voice broke through the animal terror that assaulted Choy, and she stopped moving, conserving her oxygen. Her vision was useless, forcing her to rely on touch. She traced the tube of her mask, to where it disappeared into the top of her tomb… but her fingers felt dry coldness near the ceiling.

Choy exhaled, and ripped the mask from her face. She braced her feet against the smooth sides of her coffin, and pushed up, pressing her nose and lips to the ceiling, where she found two centimeters of space, filled with _air_.

Choy inhaled greedily, taking in air, and bits of slime that clung to her face, but she fought the urge to cough, before her feet lost their precarious hold, and she sank back down… but her lungs had air, and she was awake now. Calmly (but quickly), she traced her fingers across the ceiling of the tank she found herself trapped in.

This eventuality had been foreseen by those that built this tank, and after several seconds, she found the handle of the manual release. Choy yanked down until the release sprang free, then she pushed up… and the ceiling moved…

The half-drowned mechanic hooked her knees on the lip of the tank, and swarmed out of the container like an ugly breach-birth, flopping to the hard deck, and screamed as fire erupted in her ribs…

She slipped back into the cold darkness, away from the pain…

 _No. There will be time for rest later. Now, there must be action_.

Reluctantly Choy felt herself tugged back to the surface.

"Who are you?" Choy choked, coughing up bits of kolto…

But no one answered her.

Choy dragged herself into a sitting position against the tank, the kolto on her getting sticky from exposure to air as it dried. It was not a pleasant feeling.

Choy carefully felt her ribs, which sent out flares of pain and agony, so she stopped, light headed. She forced herself to think, to distract herself…

She had been wounded, and was now in a place that a kolto tank could be found… so probably Peragus's medbay.

She couldn't hear the hum or whine of any machinery, coupled with the impenetrable darkness, and the failure of her respirator… she guessed that power had been lost in this area at least. That meant, possibly, an emergency, here, or elsewhere.

Choy painfully pulled away from the tank she had begun to adhere to, and the pain lessened, so long as she moved slowly. The way her feet stuck to the floor began to irritate her, especially as the tiny jerk needed to separate her foot from the floor for each step jarred the pain in her chest back to life.

She slowly explored the circular wall of the room, until she found a door. Naturally, it didn't have power, but she found the manual release, and wedged her fingers into the gap, prying the doors apart. She managed to open the doors a handspan, before she had to stop, and breathe until the pain faded enough to continue, but she could see a fallen glowrod at the end of a hallway ahead of her. She hadn't been this badly hurt in… well, several years. She needed to find a weapon… but first, she needed to _see_. Woodenly, the woman limped to the tool… but she tripped several meters away, over something heavy, which felt in _no way_ pleasant.

Choy crawled to the glowrod, and carried it back to (presumably) the man who'd dropped it.

His face (the half that remained) had the look of a soldier, clean shaven, closely cropped black hair, and… _hard_ , even in death. Choy thought he was probably the Security Chief… but it was hard to be sure.

What was more important, was the weapon she found in his hand… an ion blaster. It left a tingling sensation in organics, but was devastating against electronic systems. He'd been shot, or stabbed by something in the chest as well… something that hadn't been _immediately_ fatal. For a moment, she considered donning his clothing, for modesty's sake, but he was wearing the standard Peragus issue duty-wear jumpsuit… and he'd lost his bowels, judging from the smell. She wasn't _that_ desperate. Not yet.

Armed with both a light, and a weapon, the tired woman walked with a little less caution…

((()))

Atton quickly flicked his glow rod on, scanning the room, ignoring his bruised shoulder. He kept a wary eye on the half-open door, crouching next to the first body. He recognized the man, but couldn't remember his name. He was one of the miners that worked the delta shift, though. He was as big as Coorta, but most of it was fat, not muscle. Atton rolled him over. Someone had taken a sonic drill to the side of the man's head, Atton could see the inner side of the man's skull, and it had made quite a mess. Concentrated sound waves didn't cauterize blood vessels like a blaster did…

Atton set the glow rod down next to him, and quickly pawed through the man's pockets. Aside from a few mints, an identichit ( _right… Janos…)_ , and a handful of small denomination credits, the man didn't have anything immediately useful… well, aside from his pass card. Atton tucked his tunic into his pants, tightened his belt, and shoved everything down the neck of his tunic. Atton moved to the second body, a woman he didn't recognize. Something had cut off one of her legs, mid thigh, and punched several holes through her chest. She had a pass card, but more importantly, she had a recorder rod in her hand… and it was still recording. Atton glanced at the door again, before he hid behind a half shredded couch.

 _Let's see what happened here…_ Atton thought grimly.

He skipped back through the log.

"—swear they're never going to get around to fixing the ventilation systems – and if the food processors back up again, then next time the fumes start flooding the mess hall, we might be dead rather than just nauseous. I'll keep a few breath masks there just in case we have a repeat incident, end Mess Hall report 253-15…"

"Hey, Dressa, I'm catching a bite, want to join me?"

"Yeah, just a minute, I only have a… wait, did you feel that?" the woman, apparently _Dressa_ asked fearfully.

"Felt like an explosion," the man said, worried.

"The lights!"

Atton listened through five or six minutes of whispered arguments, and searching for a glow-rod… then…

"Shh… do you hear that?"

"Sounds like a droid… but, what are mining droids doing on the administration level?" the man asked, confused.

"The explosion might have scrambled their thermal sensors. Maybe they're lost?" the woman suggested.

"Yeah, I can see one now, it's a Mark One. Think we should corral it for Maintenance?" the man asked.

"No. Let them do their own work for once," the woman said harshly.

There was a sound, then the woman was screaming… but not for long.

He was starting to get a familiar feeling… and felt it might be a good idea to _move_. Atton tripped over something in the dark, and whatever it was sent a lot of metal things skittering across the deck. Atton risked a little light, and grinned. A tool box… but metal was still clattering on metal… and the rogue realized it was getting louder.

 _Shit, something's coming._

Atton snatched up a fusion cutter, before ducking under a nearby desk. The clatter grew louder, than stopped… but Atton knew the droid was close, and looking for him. He fumbled with the tool settings of the fusion cutter, switching the cutting beam to its broadest setting, his thumb hovering on the activation stud.

He had an idea.

Atton pulled out the recording rod, increased the volume to maximum, then turned it on and tossed it to the side, where it rolled and clattered…

And the woman started talking, another report.

The dumb automaton fell for it, trying to find the speaker…

Atton silently slipped out of his hiding place, and snuck up behind the oblivious, crab-shaped droid. It wasn't very tall, but the sonic drills attached to its "arms" were deadly enough. Atton struck, cutting deep into the top of the housing, in a place near the optical sensor clusters. He kept slicing until the bucking droid stopped moving... and he heard the charging clatter of more droids.

 _Two_ , to be exact.

Atton dove for cover, behind the desk. They'd have to get in close to kill him, and at that range, he might have a chance.

The smuggler heard two short barks of blaster fire, different in sound than the more prolonged whine of a sonic drill, and metal crashed against the deck. Atton peeked out from behind the desk, spotting the motionless droids because of the residual ion energy that was frying their systems, outlining them in a tracery of scampering electrical worms. They were sprawled awkwardly on the deck in a mess of articulated legs. He slowly stood up, keeping the fusion cutter close to his leg, where it wouldn't be seen… someone was standing at the other end of the hall, opposite the direction he'd come from. Not that he could _see_ them, but there was only one way into this room.

He flicked on his glow rod, aiming it in the newcomer's direction and saw _bare_ feet. He raised the light, and the bareness continued, all the way up to a one piece undergarment the _woman_ was wearing.

"Nice outfit…" he said appreciatively.

"What happened here?" the woman asked, sounding tired and vulnerable. He recognized her as the mechanic… the invisible one.

"Apparently everyone contracted a bad case of _dead_ ," Atton said sarcastically. He saw that she was trembling, leaning against the door frame for more than just cover. _Way to go, asshole_.

"Sorry. I don't know what happened here," Atton said quickly. The blaster started to dip in the woman's hand. Atton stepped forward, "Look, whatever's happening here, it looks like you need my help," he said.

The blaster snapped back up, and he stopped in mid motion.

"Who are you?" she asked sharply. Atton blinked. Women typically remembered him.

"Atton… Atton Rand," the rogue said, sketching a surly bow.

"What is your job?" the mechanic asked, carefully sliding down the wall into a sitting position, although the blaster didn't shift away from his face.

"Pilot?" Atton looked at the woman again, and this time he saw the thin, whitish flakes of peeling kolto, and the way her hair was matted was from more than just a hairstyle… her abbreviated attire… this woman had been in a kolto tank recently, which meant she had probably suffered some serious injuries.

"Uh, look, this isn't the safest place to talk, if anything heard our scuffle…" Atton trailed off.

((()))

Atton shoved the unpowered door closed, and engaged the manual catch. It wouldn't stop a _person_ , but the mining droids didn't have hands… or at least, the mark ones didn't.

He checked out the room with a sweep of his glow rod. They were in the medical bay. The mechanic was propped against one of the bio beds, watching him.

"Are you hurt?" Atton asked casually, keeping his distance. If her weakness was a ruse then she was an _excellent_ actress.

"What happened here while I was unconscious?" she said, ignoring his question.

She was the one with the blaster, and Atton didn't see any harm in answering,

"I'm not sure how long you've been unconscious," Atton shrugged.

"Best guess… and please, keep your eyes above the level of my sternum…" the mechanic sighed. Atton glanced up guiltily, "Something's been going wrong with the droids. There've been accidents… and then we lost power, there was screaming, and a lot of droids trying to kill anything that moved…"

Atton relaxed slightly, when he realized the blaster pistol she had aimed at him was actually an _ion_ blaster.

"Look… there might be a way off this rock," Atton said.

"How?" the mechanic asked.

"If you can reroute the emergency systems to let us reach the hangers, I can grab a ship, and we can fly out of here," Atton proposed.

"Nothing with a hyperdrive. I wasn't finished repairing the _Tympan-class_ freighter," the mechanic sighed.

Atton frowned, "How much work was left?"

"Just some heavy lifting, and grunt work. About two or three hours, if I have the tools, parts, _and no interruptions_ …" the mechanic answered.

"I'm pretty handy with a hyperspanner… I could help speed up the repairs," Atton offered.

"And who will watch for droids?" the mechanic countered.

"I've got two eyes," Atton winked.

"Eyes above sternum. _Now_ ," the mechanic growled.

"Let's go get the tools," Atton suggested, distracting her.

((()))

Atton crouched over the scattered tools on the floor, while the mechanic kept an eye out for trouble. He began to wonder just how _far_ a power calibrator could roll. There _had_ to be one around here somewhere, it was a pretty standard staple of any tool kit. He shined his glow-rod under a row of work stations, trying to see if it was there…

"What are you looking for?" the mechanic asked.

"A power calibrator."

"You're looking in the wrong place," she said, directing her light off to the left. Atton looked where she was indicating and… _son of a bitch._

"You could _help_ me, you know," Atton grumbled.

"I'm not bending over," the woman said flatly.

"Come on. I won't _look_ ," Atton lied.

"It's my ribs," she replied sharply.

"Ah…" Atton decided further talking would only dig his grave deeper. He stalked over and snatched the tool up from where it had landed in a potted plant's base, and shoved it back into the tool box he'd kicked earlier. He flipped it shut and threw the carry strap across his shoulders.

"Great. Now to business. Let's get to the command console," Atton said cheerfully.

The woman nodded, and followed behind him, ion blaster at the ready.

"So, what's your name?" Atton asked companionably. The mechanic didn't answer.

 _That would have been too easy…_ Atton thought, annoyed.

Choy warily watched the pilot as they walked. She didn't trust a word he said… but she could hardly be choosy in her allies, at the moment. He seemed competent enough, she supposed.

"Droids," he hissed, flattening against the bulkhead, and turning off his glow-rod. Choy raised the ion-blaster, and the glow-rod warily.

"Their photoreceptors are thermal based. They can still see you," Choy observed coolly, as three mark one mining droids scuttled out of a hatch roughly fifteen meters away, and down the corridor towards them.

Choy squeezed the trigger, the weapon twitched slightly in her hands, and the lead droid collapsed. The two droids behind the first had to scramble around and over the disabled lead droid, buying Choy a couple of extra seconds to line up her second shot, which also hit. The third droid she dropped at three meters.

"Trade you," Atton offered, holding out his fusion cutter, gesturing towards the ion blaster.

Choy studied him skeptically.

"Hey, I'm a good shot with a blaster. Besides, my ribs aren't broken," the pilot smirked.

He was looking again.

Choy hated when people looked at her _that closely_. It was dangerous.

"Fine. Stay in front," Choy snapped, trading weapons with the man. He tried to touch fingers in the trade, but she had anticipated that, and he failed.

((()))

The corridors leading from the medical bay to the administration level were filled with broken droids, and dead miners… but no actual enemies. Even the administration blister was devoid of hostiles, the rows of command consoles looked like grave markers.

"Just keep an eye out, for _droids_ ," Choy said, crouching carefully next to a command console. She used the hyperspanner to open up the console, and worked the power calibrator deep inside, where she spliced it into the power circuits. The power supply in the tool activated, and the terminal whined to life, the only thing glowing in the room.

"Console's active," Choy grunted, "But someone activated the security lockdown. I don't have clearance to override it," she reported.

"Not a problem. Let me work on it," Atton said eagerly. He handed the ion blaster to her, and swapped places.

"All right… now this console is set on automatic hail," Atton said conversationally as he worked, using a datapad stylus to test some of the circuit connections.

"The asteroid drift charts are constantly being updated, so it sends out a transmission to incoming vessels so they don't get crushed into space dust," he frowned, double checking two circuits, but they were fine.

"The hail warns them to keep their distance until orbital drift charts are transmitted, and then provides docking instructions to incoming ships... usually freighters…"

He wasn't expecting the mechanic to respond, he was just talking to keep her _relaxed_ , " _Thing is,_ you can bounce that same transmission back to the comm here... and suddenly, you've got access to the communications system from the inside," he grinned, showing off a little.

"Now, all we need to do is re-activate the turbolifts, cancel the emergency lockdown... hey…" Atton frowned, double tapping on the command sequence again, but the same error message appeared.

"Did you break it?" the mechanic asked dourly.

" _No…"_ Atton said sullenly, trying the sequence again. It still wasn't working.

"Give me a minute," the mechanic sighed, handing off the weapon. After six minutes ripping into the base of the console, and running fingers along wires and circuitry, the mechanic grunted in surprise.

"Fix it yet?" Atton asked.

"This system's been severed from the main hub - _after_ it was locked down from remote," the woman said, holding up a fried circuit board…

"I can't even reroute the system, it's been cut clean," the mechanic said in disbelief.

Atton was getting a bad feeling again.

"Why would anyone do that? Especially during an emergency?" the mechanic asked in confusion.

" _Someone_ tried to lock down this whole level tight, and leave us here. Trapped," Atton snarled, pounding his fist against the side of the console in frustration.

"Are you sure?" the mechanic asked him doubtfully.

" _Think about_ it. Cutting off this console specifically from remote _then_ severing the hub… it doesn't get any more deliberate than that," Atton growled.

"Was there a plan B?" the mechanic asked.

"Well… we _could_ use the console to contact the miners… but if the miners _are_ the ones trying to trap us up here, why not call them and chat?" Atton said sarcastically.

"Or we can just sit here, and wait for the air to turn bad, or freeze to death," the woman snapped.

" _Fine_ ," Atton grumbled, "Damned computer…"

((()))

Bryna heard something… the console was beeping. A message!

"This is Chief Medical Officer Bryna, I need help," she said hastily, for however long the link lasted.

"Bryna?" a man said, and she realized it was Atton.

"Rand. I thought you were in a cell," she said, startled.

"I was, look, the Administration level lost power, and droids killed everyone else. I'm trapped up here, and the air's running out…" Atton said, worried.

"Same thing here… we're all trapped in the dormitories. At our current rate, we have less than an hour left," Bryna said, on the verge of outright panic.

"Okay, okay, calm down, Bryna, listen to me," Rand said soothingly, " _How_ are you trapped? Can't you just end the dormitory lock down?"

"No. Someone's sealed the doors from the outside, and the O2 scrubbers were sabotaged," Bryna said.

"Okay… is there _anything_ you can do with _your_ terminal. The turbolift is magnetically sealed, if you can unlock it, I can get to you," Rand said.

Bryna frowned, and tried to access the administration level command functions… power _was_ down to that level, but the turbolift had its own power supply, independent of the Administration level systems.

"No… someone's rerouted turbolift controls to a terminal in the fuel depot. I can't access them," Bryna cried.

"Okay, that's all right…" Atton said calmly.

"We're going to die…" Bryna whispered, her hope crumbling to dust.

"You're _not_ going to die, not if you stay calm," Atton said sternly.

"Is there _any_ other way off the Administration level?"

"Uh…" Bryna pulled up the level's schematics…

"The airlocks have been locked down manually… but… wait,"

Atton crouched in the dark impatiently, clutching at this thinnest of lifelines.

"I can unlock the emergency maintenance hatch… it should get you to the Habitat level," Bryna said.

"Bryna, I could kiss you," Atton said happily.

"Hurry," was all she said.

It took less than five minutes to find the maintenance hatch.

"Couldn't they have made these things a little taller?" Atton complained. At least he was able to crawl on his hands and knees this time… but alas, he was in the lead, so the only thing he saw was dark, cramped wiring and pipes, instead of the backside of a rather pretty woman.

((()))

"Alright…" Choy said, peering closely at the console.

Atton stood guard with the ion blaster.

"You know, it's getting kind of annoying saying ' _hey you'_ all the time. A name would be _so_ much easier," Atton grumbled, as Choy jerked the access panel off.

"Or I could focus on saving the miners from suffocation," Choy suggested.

" _True_ ," Atton said grudgingly.

Choy glanced at the console again… something had taken exception with the terminal, and smashed it repeatedly.

"The interface for this thing is completely trashed," Choy hissed, "can you reroute the functions to a separate terminal?"

Atton frowned as he tapped commands on the console, glancing periodically up and down the corridor as he worked.

"No. _Someone_ scrambled the network signature. It has to be _this_ console," Atton growled, scratching his jaw.

"Could we cut our way in?" Atton asked, gesturing to the fusion cutter lying next to the rat's nest Choy had made of the console base.

"Maybe… but it would take a few hours," Choy said.

 _Too long_.

"Actually… I have an idea," Choy said thoughtfully. She pulled a datapad out of the toolbox and popped the back of the housing off, exposing the circuitry. Something scuttled at the end of the hall, and Atton spun, leveling the ion blaster, and raising his glow rod… but nothing stepped into view…

"There… now, let's see if the interface holds…" Choy mumbled. Atton glanced over his shoulder. Choy had several wires and cables from the destroyed terminal jacked into the back of the datapad. She bit her lip… and the screen suddenly flared to life.

"It's working," she said in satisfaction.

"Alright, let me get to work," Atton said intently, trading his blaster for the datapad.

Choy turned her attention to where the droids were hiding.

Atton frowned. The interface was shaky, but operational… though the directories were scrambled, and nothing was labeled. He had to wade through several dozen information clusters, apparently work-shift assignments and duty rosters, he even found several live camera feeds, but it wasn't what he _needed_.

The ion blaster fired, making him jump, and something crashed to the deck nearby.

"The droids are getting bolder," the mechanic told him calmly. They were still too far away to hit anything, sonic drills had an effective range of slightly less than two meters… but if enough of them charged at once…

Atton redoubled his efforts…


	3. Chapter 3

"I think we should leave," Kel voted, ignoring the harsh smell within the utility closet. The door could lock, which was something in its favor.

"There's something here. Something blocking our vision of the future," Jolee muttered, tugging at his beard thoughtfully.

"Jolee. We should leave. Let Admiral Onasi handle this," Kel insisted. He finished applying the kolto bandage from the emergency first aid kit to Lashowe's leg. Their daughter was suckling noisily. A daughter they had not yet agreed on a name for. The sudden droid rebellion had placed such concerns on hold. Lashowe groggily held their daughter securely, as Jolee had shown her. Between the labor, running, and blood loss from the leg injury, Kel was quietly impressed that his wife wasn't unconscious.

"Jolee. Please," Kel pled softly.

Jolee scowled, but after a moment nodded reluctantly.

"I'll get you kids to the ship… but I can't leave yet. There's something _here_ ," the hermit growled.

Kel pulled Lashowe's legging back into place, before using the Force to supplement his muscles, picking up his wife again.

"Let's go," Kel said quietly.

Jolee wished he had a blaster, Force lightning was such a nuisance.

((()))

"Ha! Found you, you little—" Atton crowed.

"Atton, gloat later!" Choy snapped, crouched next to him, firing as rapidly as she could.

"Yes mother," Atton said quickly, tapping in the correct code sequence to end the dormitory lock down.

 _"Fierfeik,"_ the mechanic whispered. The ion blaster… its power cell was depleted. The dormitory doors opened, and dozens of people rushed out, several almost tripping over Atton.

"Shit, here they come!" a miner said.

"Someone close the bulkhead, we can seal off the corridor!" a man bellowed in the din.

The droids didn't wait for order to be restored though, they simply waded into the crowd of screaming miners.

Some of the miners were armed. Others were simply desperate, mobbing single droids barehanded, trying to keep the lethal sonic drills pointed away from them.

Choy backed away from the melee, her chest burning. A big miner had her fusion cutter. She saw him bury it in a mining droid, before a different droid blew a hole through his sternum. People were dying.

More droids came. More people died.

A miner wrestled the hatch off a control box mounted to the corridor wall. He reached inside, and yanked the lever. An orange emergency strobe-light activated, warning that the nearby bulkhead was closing.

For many, the bulkhead didn't close soon enough.

A mining droid spun on Choy, rearing back, its sonic drills coming to bear. The mechanic back-pedaled, kicking a sonic drill out of line with her as she tripped and fell. An ion bolt slipped under the closing bulkhead door, and dropped the rearing droid into a twitching pile. Choy didn't notice, clutching her screaming ribs.

((()))

HK-50 lowered the ion blaster. The situation had grown more complex. The primary target had been reacquired, and was _loose_ in the complex. The inferior droid models plaguing this facility were no longer accepting override commands. Analysis concluded that their rudimentary intelligences had been overwhelmed by the handful of software upgrades implemented to bring them closer to combat models. In summary, the mining droids had been driven insane, a most organic condition, (deplorable, really) and were consumed with the overriding directive to mine all organics.

This was a serious complication for HK-50, as the target need to be _alive_. That, and there was now an emergency bulkhead in the way.

((()))

"How are you feeling?" The medical officer asked, after tending to the wounded in the corridor. It was very simple from such violent fighting. There were dead, uninjured, and a few minor wounds. Most were simply dead.

"Did I have internal injuries?" Choy asked.

"Yes. Two broken ribs, perforated liver, ruptured spleen. Right clavicle and scapula fractures, skull fracture, subdural hematoma," the doctor confirmed.

"Ah… that explains it," Choy sighed.

The medical officer opened her med kit, and took out a standard medical scanner. She ran the device over Choy's chest, frowning at the results…

"There's _some_ hemorrhage, but not as much as I'd expect from your injuries…" the medical officer said, curious.

"So I'll be fine," Choy said.

"So long as you don't exert yourself _too_ strenuously," the medical officer warned.

"I'll keep it under advisement," Choy said faintly, looking away.

" _So,_ how do we get to the Fuel Depot?" Atton wondered, staring at the schematic of the facility he'd finished pulling up on the engineering console.

"What's at the Fuel Depot?" Sully asked, confused. Atton shrugged, "Well, according to this, its the only way to reach the hangers."

Choy frowned, and glanced at Sully. The man chewed on his lip thoughtfully…

"Well… the fuel depot airlocks were secured manually as well… from the _inside_. The turbolift on that level is still locked down, obviously… wait…" the woman leaned closer to the display, and enlarged one section of the map.

"Here… the mining lift is still operational…" Choy said.

"Choy, that explosion came from below. There's probably nothing down there except superheated rock and collapsed blast tunnels," Sully protested.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, that's the only other way into the Fuel Depot," Choy said softly, glancing at Brynna.

"Could some of the tunnels be intact?" Brynna asked.

"It's possible… but all of the sensors were knocked out in the explosion. We won't know until we go look," Choy said reluctantly.

"It's a _maze_ down there. One wrong turn…" Brynna said, worried.

"Then we'll bring a map," Atton said firmly.

"I could download the last tunnel schematics onto a datapad, and set up a point of reference…" Sully said slowly.

"The sensors might be off line, but we're still picking up droid broadcasts," Atton said, still fiddling with the console, "and… well, I narrowed down some of the ID signals, and if the numbers are right, we'll be sharing those tunnels with a battalion of mining droids…"

"Is there _any_ good news?" Brynna asked wearily.

"Well… these droids rely on thermal sensors, primarily to detect fuel deposits, right?" Atton said, glancing at the mechanic.

"Yes…" Choy said slowly.

"Do they have _any_ visual sensors?" Atton pressed.

"I… I don't think so. There aren't many light sources in the mines, so photoreceptors would be mostly useless, and expensive," Choy said.

"The good thing is, that explosion down there kicked up so much heat and steam it may blind them to our thermal signatures," Atton said with sick enthusiasm.

"They can still hear though," Sully warned.

"In a vacuum?" Atton said derisively, "I still like those odds."

"As do I," Brynna said.

((()))

"Tee-three, do you read me?" Jolee asked, scowling at his comlink. He wasn't being jammed, so the little droid _had_ to be able to hear him.

Jolee banged on the boarding ramp of the Ebon Hawk. Kel flinched at the sudden noise, looking around nervously in case it drew attention.

"Open up, you surly little bucket of refurbished reactor shielding!"

No response.

"So help me, Tee-three, lower the ramp, or else I'll donate you to the first junior technical academy I can find! One for ugnauts!"

An indignant squawk rang out from behind Jolee, not the comlink.

Jolee turned, spotting the squat utility droid gamely trundling across the hanger bay. It wasn't alone. Two other droids flanked it.

"Why aren't you on the ship?" Jolee demanded. T3-M4 broke into an irritated tirade of blats and squeals. Jolee only picked up bits and pieces. Apparently the droid had been trying to _rescue_ them.

"And what are _they_ doing with you?" Jolee asked, pointing at the second utility droid (painted in muted oranges and reds), and another droid that looked _very_ similar to the insane mining droids.

T3-M4 retorted with a handful of beeps, and refused to be drawn out on the subject.

"Don't get snippy with _me_ , you little trash compactor," Jolee growled, as T3 arrived, and overrode the security lockout the facility had placed on the ship (after impounding it). "I didn't _know_ security would impound you separately from the ship."

Kel didn't think T3 sounded impressed with the excuse.

Jolee stopped his verbal sparring match, and turned to Kel.

"Run a pre-flight check list, then raise the shields. I don't know when I'll be back," the old man said quietly.

"I understand," Kel said. He carried his wife to the small med bay, and made sure she was comfortable with their daughter. Then the former sith went about the business of ensuring that _nothing_ threatened his family.

((()))

"Hold on… it's Coorta," Atton said, studying the sprawled corpse.

"How do you know?" Choy asked. The body was missing its head.

"Well, he's the right size, and he's got the blaster I smuggled in for him," Atton said, plucking the cheap weapon out of the big man's hand.

"Are you _insane?"_ Sully screamed.

"Not yet… but I'll let you know how that goes," Atton said, holding the blaster loosely at his side.

"Those regulations against blasters are there for a _reason_! _One_ stray blaster shot, is all it takes to turn this asteroid into one giant mine field!" Sully yelled.

"Yeah, yeah, can't trust a miner jumped up on juma juice not to fire _one stray shot_ that will turn the entire colony into a thermal detonator, I know. Security practically has that regulation tattooed on their foreheads," Atton snapped.

"Then why did you do it?" Sully asked, floored.

"This cheap thing's low yield, and it only cost me twenty-credits, but it can be disassembled, and hidden inside other supplies so security scans can't pick it up. Do you know how much Coorta paid for it?" Atton asked calmly.

"Not enough," Sully said, spitting at Atton's feet.

"Two _hundred_ credits…" Atton shrugged.

"And now it's useful," Brynna said softly, with a pointed look at both men.

"So long as there are no… _accidents_ ," the medical officer said, staring hard at Atton.

"Do I look like an idiot?" Atton asked in irritation. Brynna quirked an eyebrow at him,

"Look - when I start shooting, I'm real careful _who_ and _what_ I shoot," Atton snarled. _Even when I'm drinking._

((()))

HK-50 noted that a freighter had arrived in system. It did not match the sensor profile Coorta had provided for his contact, and that contact was not due for another six hours. No weapons, minimal deflector screens, and only a handful of life-signs were detected. It was of no immediate threat, nor use. The assassin droid resumed its attempts to reacquire the target via the internal sensors, relegating the new arrival to a secondary threat protocol.

((()))

Jolee froze in the access tunnel. He looked ahead, and behind, but saw no threat, no enemies. There was… a silence to the Force, different than before. The shadow upon the future remained, but now there was a chill. Something had come, like the silence that followed on the heels of a deathblow. It was unnatural. Jolee had never felt something like it before. An old friend arrived, and ran down Jolee's spine.

There was danger here. Best be wary.

Only the dead, and fools were fearless.

((()))

At the bottom of the quarter kilometer shaft, Atton shakily thumbed on his glow rod. He _really_ hated heights.

"Well, we don't seem to be roasting alive," Brynna pointed out.

"This _connects_ to the mining tunnels. We aren't actually there yet," Sully told her, double checking that his datapad was still receiving positional updates, through the comlink Choy had jury rigged into it, boosting the signal power. The dot on the map that showed their position flickered occasionally, but remained steady…

"There's a lot of interference down here - probably caused by the explosion," Sully said.

"Will the pad still be able to triangulate our position?" Brynna asked.

"Probably. If we go _too_ deep we might lose the signal… but as long as we stay within a kilometer of the surface, we should be fine," Choy said.

"This is an airlock," Brynna observed, staring at the panel next to the door that barred the end of the tunnel with worry.

"Some of the mine shafts lead to the exterior of the asteroid," Atton said.

"So that's an airlock _and_ a decontamination chamber," Peison, a miner from gamma shift clarified helpfully.

"I can't tell if the other lock is engaged," Choy said, worried. If it wasn't, opening this door would space them.

"Ladies first," Atton said nervously. When the half-naked mechanic reached for the panel, he was ready to step in, if he got a bad feeling… but there was nothing.

Choy frowned, and tapped several keys on the panel. With a groan, the thick doors parted… and there was no torrent of escaping air.

Atton released the breath he'd been holding. Apparently he wasn't the only one.

"There should be some extra mining suits in these lockers," Peison said, moving to the tall equipment lockers that lined both walls.

"Might even be some sonic drills," the Duros miner finished hopefully.

There was a rustle of cloth and metal. Atton turned around, and saw Choy stepping into a bulky mining suit.

"Damn it…" he said, realizing the ramifications of wearing EVA suits. He grabbed one last peek of the woman, with her skin-tight leotard…

She turned, and raised an eyebrow at him. It was a very cold look.

"Uh... I mean… no sense in you running around half-naked. It's...it's distracting... I mean, for the droids," Atton said hastily, turning back to his own search.

 _Shut your mouth Atton, until you have something coherent to say,_ Atton snarled silently.

"There's also a vacuum on the other side of that lock," Choy reminded him.

"Yes, there is that, too," Atton agreed quickly.

In the smallest footlocker he found what he wanted… sonic drills.

Atton grabbed one of the bulky, rifle-like tools, and looked it over… it was basically like a weapon, it had a trigger, a safety, and a second hand grip to stabilize it, as well as a charge indicator. There were seven mining lasers in the locker. Enough for each of them, and a spare.

Choy struggled with some of the straps on her suit, and Atton quickly helped her, his hands lingering longer than she was comfortable, "Remember, no strenuous movement," he reminded her.

"Tell me about these suits," Brynna asked Peison, frowning at the unfamiliar devices built into the suit.

"Uh, the survey gear built into the helmet is designed to spot sonic charges, and the utility harness has tools to help disarm, or set them. That device, built into the arm, yes _that_ ," Peison said, when Brynna pointed to a wrist unit, "That's a sonic damper. It's linked to a network of emitters in the suit, which will counter incoming sonic energy, I think by create inverse sonic waves to neutralize them…"

"How do I activate it?" Brynna asked.

"It's automatic, but only has a limited number of uses before the power supply is depleted," Choy explained, distancing herself from Atton.

"It won't last forever, especially not against multiple hits," Peison said.

"How comforting," Choy said dryly. It felt good to have clothes on again though.

"The suit's also pretty well insulated, and obviously has its own air supply," Sully finished.

"Now, don't shoot unless you have to, we may need the energy later. So long as we don't _touch_ any of them, we should be able to just walk past," Atton said.

" _Should_ being the key operative word," Choy observed darkly. She twisted on her helmet, and double checked her suit's seals.

Atton deactivated his drill's safety, and looked over at Choy.

"You ready for this?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

He flicked on his helmet's spot-lamps, and engaged the airlock's cycle, nervously raising his weapon, ready to fire.

((()))

The shell of a man studied the wall of energy. Corroded fingers traced across the hazy purple surface. It had beauty in its own way.

A shadow approached and waited at the shell's elbow.

Air passed through ruined lips,

"Destroy it."

((()))

"Stop," Peison said. The sensor in his helmet had suddenly detected the signals of multiple _armed_ sonic mines ahead… littering the entire tunnel, in fact…

"We might be able to get through these…" Atton said softly. He briefly toyed with the idea of throwing a rock into the group, but he suspected this had been done to _collapse_ the tunnel, but for whatever reason, hadn't been triggered.

"These mines don't have motion triggers. They're remote detonation only," Peison said.

Choy panned her helmet lamps across the tunnel, noting the little explosives littered like shells on a beach.

"So why didn't the droids detonate them? We've had to back track enough times already from collapsed tunnels… why not this one?" Brynna asked.

"I don't know… but it's the only path within three kilometers that heads _towards_ the fuel depot lift," Sully said, pointing to the datapad's screen. He'd already blacked out sections that they had found collapsed.

"Do we really have a choice?" Brynna asked.

"If they haven't exploded by now…" Atton trailed off uncomfortably, unable to look away from the innocuous little devices.

Peison went first. Halfway through the mines he stopped, and looked around, then looked back at the group. He shrugged, _well, it seems safe enough_ , then kept walking. The rest of the group followed, one by one.

" _Shit,"_ Sully said, freezing in his tracks. The dot marking their position was flickering wildly… and then it disappeared. He held it out to Choy for inspection. She leaned in, hampered by the bulky fingers of the mining suit, verifying that the linkages between the comlink and datapad were still intact.

"Well… now we know why the mines haven't gone off," Atton said brightly.

"This passage isn't too complex… we'll just have to keep going, and hope we reach a patch of lesser interference," Choy said.

((()))

An alarm began to strobe on the maintenance master control panel. HK-50 paused its sporadic surveillance of the target via internal sensors, and brought up the schematic in question. A critical failure of containment fields in the V-933 access junction… in sequence. The method involved was causing critical failures in other sections… some sections that were keeping the asteroid from venting superheated sections of tunnel into pockets of peragian fuel.

Something was carving a path from the far-side of the asteroid, towards the administration section. Such a path would shunt the residual backblast into tunnels currently occupied by the target.

Unacceptable.

((()))

"I'm receiving an automated alert. Containment fields are failing, in about sixty seconds," Sully reported, looking up from his datapad.

"How far to the lift?" Brynna demanded, as the group broke into a sprint.

"Two hundred meters," Sully grunted.

It was going to be close.

"Hurry!" Atton shouted, racing through the mining tunnel. The mechanic was flagging, badly.

Brynna reached the mining lift first, and began frantically pressing buttons. Peison and Sully reached it moments later, as the platform began to slowly rise, scrambling aboard.

Atton turned back. He could see Choy. She was running in skipping lunges, right arm clamped tightly to her side, left arm pumping. She was only five meters away.

An emergency bulkhead began to rise, to seal off the tunnel, and the cargo lift access.

 _Save her._

Atton typically ignored his inner voices. They rarely had constructive things to say.

His feet were moving before the rest of his mind caught up. By then, he was already committed.

"Run, damn you!" Atton shouted at Choy, sprinting across the rough terrain. She reached the bulkhead, which had risen to the height of a low barricade, leaving a one meter gap with its twin descending from the ceiling, and awkwardly straddled it with one leg, trying to roll over it. Atton grabbed her suit's shoulder harness and yanked her over.

Sully punched overrides into the lift's controls, slowing the lift to a crawl, but it was still rising. It was already two meters above the ground.

"Peison!" Atton shouted, as he jumped up, catching the lip of the lift with one hand, still clutching at Choy's harness with his other. Sully and Peison grabbed Atton's wrist and forearm, then pulled him up. The three of them managed to haul Choy onto the lift several centimeters before the lift rose flush with the shaft walls.

"We are _not_ doing that again," Atton said, more than slightly shaken.

The mechanic didn't answer, she was curled into a fetal ball, and hadn't moved.

"Are you alright?" he asked cautiously.

"Do I _look_ all right?" she hissed.

 _Dumb question_.

"Brynna?" Atton said, worried.

The doctor did another scan…

"Congratulations. You've undone most of my work," the woman said lightly.

"How badly?"

Brynna looked at Atton, worried, "As long as nothing _else_ happens, and I can get you into surgery… you'll be fine."

"The administration level doesn't have any power," Choy reminded Brynna, as the lift reached the top, and the door cycled open.

"Is it safe to move her?" Atton asked Brynna.

"Is it safe not to?" Brynna countered.

"Damn it…" Atton hissed.

" _Greeting:_ It is a pleasure to see you alive, master, provided my receptors are not off-focus. How may I be of assistance?" a synthesized voice said pleasantly. Atton whirled, raising his weapon. _Somebody should have been watching the corridor…_

A gun metal gray protocol droid stood four meters away, outside the effective range of the drill, otherwise Atton would have squeezed the trigger.

"Tell me what you're doing here before I turn you into slag," he snarled.

" _Answer:_ I _was_ in the service of this facility's maintenance officer… until he suffered his rather unfortunate demise. Therefore, as the leading remaining member of the maintenance detail, I default to technician Choy Verdan's authority."

"I remember you," the mechanic grunted.

"Statement: I am pleased that I was worthy of remembrance, master."

Atton didn't like the droid's silky tone.

"You sure it's the same droid?" Atton asked Choy quietly.

"Pretty sure," she grimaced.

 _It is pretty distinctive…_ Atton thought darkly.

"Droid, carry this woman, _carefully_. She has internal injuries," Brynna commanded sharply.

The droid nodded sharply, "Confident Statement: I will exercise the utmost delicacy in my movements, organic."

((()))

Captain Raxton sat down at the desk in his cabin, and composed his daily log entry,

"As _ordered_ , we've diverted from Telos, and have almost arrived at Peragus. Provided there are no mishaps, we should be back on course, and arrive at Telos in ten days."

Raxton sat back and rubbed his temples, trying to avert the headache he could feel on the horizon. The ship decanted from hyperspace, on the edge of the Peragus system, to calculate a safe jump to the edge of the asteroid field.

The terminal pinged.

"Yes commander?" Captain Raxton asked.

"We are receiving a distress call," Commander Torell answered.

"I'm on my way," Captain Raxton said. He ran, dignity be damned.

"The distress signal appears to be automated," one of the new ensigns reported, studying his console readouts as Raxton slowed to a rapid stride upon entering the bridge.

"How far from our present position?" Captain Raxton asked.

"I'm not sure. There's a lot of distortion. I can give you a vector, but I can't triangulate its position," the young man said sheepishly.

"Very well. What details do we have?" Torell asked.

"Most of the transmission has decayed, possibly from damage to the transmitter."

"Is there a transmitted registry?" Torell asked, leaning over the unfortunate man's shoulder, reading the information.

"I'm sorry sir. I just have the transmission," the ensign answered.

"How old is the time stamp?" Raxton asked.

"About… thirteen hours," the ensign reported.

"Helm, follow that signal," Raxton said.

"All hands, stand by for action stations, alert level two," Commander Torell ordered in the background. Shields rose, and weapons began to charge, but the ship was not actually on a combat footing, yet. Pilots would be standing by, but not actually in their fighter's yet.

"We might not be too late," Raxton said quietly, only loud enough for Torell to hear. Raxton composed a quick text based report, along with the sensor readings and dispatched it to communications to encrypt, and send to Admiral Onasi, detailing their initial findings.

((()))

Atton frowned as he searched the console's directory… "The turbolifts have been locked down manually, with a voiceprint ID…" he said slowly.

"Probably the Maintenance officer's…" Sully sighed.

"What about an override code?" Peison asked.

"Only Administrator Landrow would have something like that…" Bryna said.

" _Pitying Answer:_ and he has most likely been murdered in an unfortunate accident…"

"How would you get to the hanger?" Choy suddenly asked the droid that carried her. It seemed startled that someone was asking for its advice.

"Warning: Master, continued exploration of this facility may place you in unnecessary danger," the droid protested, "I encourage you to return to the medical bay and wait for retrieval from a vessel that is no doubt on the way even as we continue this pointless conversation."

Atton didn't like the sound of _that_ , he glanced at Brynna and saw the hardening over her eyebrows. He knew what that meant.

"I am giving you an _order_ to assist us," Brynna growled, _or I get to turn you into scrap._

"Weary Resignation: Very well, organic. But there is very little that I can do. As you can see, the turbolift controls are secured by a code."

"So how do we get the code?" Sully asked.

"Correction: Oh, I already possess the code, organic, but I am afraid that it will do you no good," the droid said smugly, and Atton gritted his teeth.

"Let's find out," Atton growled.

"Condescending Answer: Very well, the code is: _Maintenance Control: Voiceprint ID: R1-B5_ , but unless the maintenance officer speaks the code, it is useless," the droid said.

Atton frowned. That wasn't exactly true… there were ways to beat voiceprint identification safeguards. If he could get samples of the voice and the right words, he should be able to fake the voiceprint code… and he knew what the code was now…

So either this droid wasn't as clever as it thought it was… or it was lying.

"Voice print… how do we get past that?" Bryna asked, sounding as if she were at the end of her rope.

"Answer: Organic, you cannot. We are trapped here. There is nothing to do except patiently wait for whatever the future has in store for us…"

Atton tuned out the rest of the droids lies. He needed high quality audio logs, a recording rod, and a data pad… _yesterday… didn't the Security Chief chew out someone from maintenance? Maybe it's the same person… and the man has to have filed reports somewhere…_

It wasn't a solution, not yet, but it was a start.

"How do you know the maintenance officer is dead?" Choy asked suddenly.

"Answer: I heard his dying screams as the droids he tended turned on him, mining him like a piece of asteroid rock. At the end, he was quite incoherent from the pain, and attempts to facilitate communications with him proved useless," the droid said.

"Are you sure it was him? Could you have heard someone else?" the mechanic asked hopefully.

"Annoyed answer: Master, I am quite certain of my conclusion, but if you doubt my abilities, you may judge for yourself," the droid said haughtily, and suddenly the droid's voice changed to that of a dead man.

 _"…five droids... drilling through the outer door...!"_

Atton discretely activated the recording rod in his pocket

 _"They're forcing their way into the bay... please, someone, they... oh no, they're through! Aighhh! My leg! I... stop! Stop! St-"_

And then the man's voice was gone, replaced by the protocol droid's dry, synthesized tones, "Addendum: His remaining attempts at communication are variations in decibel, Master, ranging from frenzied screams to gibbering, inarticulate attempts to beg for his life."

Atton looked over at Sully and Bryna, "Was that him?"

Bryna's dark complexion had taken on a decidedly ashen tone, and she nodded tightly.

" _Wait…_ if you can playback his voice, can't you speak the voice code?" Atton challenged.

"Objection: Master! To commit such an act would be in violation of the ethics programming most droids are believed to possess. I am afraid there is nothing that can be done," the droid said, sounding shocked.

" _Believed to possess?_ " Atton sneered.

"Irritated Statement: Organic, if you insist on echoing everything I say, this already tedious conversation is in danger of becoming even longer."

"This is all well and good, but we have more pressing concerns…" Bryna said, shaking her head sharply, eyeing the increasingly pale mechanic.

"How are we supposed to even get _back_ to the Administration level? With the loss of containment, those tunnels are _flooded_ with molten rock by now," Sully pointed out.

" _Theory:_ You could walk across the surface of the asteroid to the Administration level's exterior airlock… but such a route would be extremely hazardous, and I do not wish to see you damaged…" the droid said reluctantly.

"Do we have a choice?" Bryna asked.

Atton frowned, "Getting Choy to the med bay won't do any good without restoring power to that level… or at least, to the surgical suite."

"Could we reroute power from the Habitat level?" Sully suggested.

"No… the relays were damaged in the explosion…" Atton said. He'd already tried that.

"Suggestion: there are several fusion furnaces of varying size within the maintenance bay… one may be portable," the protocol droid said.

 _First time he's actually been helpful_... _intentionally_ , Atton thought suspiciously.

The droid hadn't been lying, Atton saw grudgingly. There were three fusion furnaces, that resembled pulsating inverted mushrooms… which didn't make them easily portable…

"Here, there's a repulsor sled," Peison said, pointing to the tool. It wasn't very large, only intended for use by a single operator on foot, to transport a small amount of heavy cargo… but it would work in vacuum.

Choy was finding it harder and harder to keep awake… and why was she so cold? The stars were beautiful though… she stared up as she was carried by the gray droid across the barren surface.

So cold.

((()))

Kel sat in the pilot's station, staring broodingly out the forward viewport.

"What's wrong?" Lash asked, sitting in the co-pilot's station. Their daughter was asleep, the tiny shape held protectively to Lashowe's chest for warmth and comfort.

"Nothing at the moment," Kel said, grinning.

Lash scowled at her husband.

"You're having second thoughts about _something_."

Kel shrugged, "No more than usual."

"It's about _us_ ," Lash accused.

Kel nodded reluctantly, conflicted.

"I… think we should leave," he said.

Lash studied her husband. His brown eyes, usually quietly amused by everything around him were muddy and cool.

"You don't mean Peragus. You mean Jolee," Lash said quietly.

Kel met her eyes, and she could both see the pain in them, and also feel it in his psyche, "Yes."

Lash was quiet for several minutes, considering it.

"It's not my first choice," the young woman answered.

"We can never repay Jolee for what he's done for us… but if we keep following him…" Kel broke off, choosing to stare out of the hanger bay at the tumbling asteroids.

Lashowe reached out and curled her fingers in Kel's hand.

"I feel it too. Something prowling. Something hungry," Lash whispered.

"And Jolee is _looking_ for it. We helped Revan end the civil war. We did our part… now its time to live our lives," Kel said.

It was a surprisingly selfish sentiment for the man.

Lashowe found herself in a difficult position. _She_ was supposed to be the selfish one.

"Kel… without Jolee we would still be lost, angry little idiots… and we wouldn't even _know_ we were idiots," Lash said hesitantly.

Kel smiled sickly, "I know. He helped us grow, instead of indoctrinating us as either a Jedi or a Sith would have. But I don't trust him _now_. He's changed."

Lash frowned. Jolee was still the same cantankerous, grumpy old man he'd always been. Rough around the edges, but always ready to put his life on the line to keep them safe.

"What do you mean?" Lash asked slowly.

Kel smiled sadly, "Lash… he's trying to die."

((()))

"I found the source of the signal," Ensign Parik reported.

"Any ships on scopes?" Torell asked.

"Just the mining ship. It appears to have taken heavy damage to its engines, and is drifting, possibly from meteoroid impacts," Ensign Parik answered. The aging craft was fifty meters long, with a tapered prow, and a heavy cluster of engines at the rear.

"Lifesigns?" Torell demanded.

"Possibly. We can't determine though due to leakage from the power core."

"Commander, prepare one of our shuttles for boarding actions and possible casevac. Launch our fighters to screen the shuttle," Captain Raxton said coolly.

 _This could be a trap._

"Medical, you might be receiving trauma patients," Commander Torell said, paging the medbay.

"Their cargo bay is compromised. Any survivors would have to be in the cockpit," Torell muttered to Raxton, studying the sensor readings.

"Unless they're in EVA suits. That _is_ a mining vessel," Raxton replied.

((()))

"Observation: connecting the fusion furnace to the main power grid is inefficient. Better to isolate the medical wing's power distribution, and directly apply power there."

Peison was up to his waist in the floor access for the power relays.

"This isn't _my_ job. And keep watch for droids," the miner retorted, pulling a power sensor from among the scattered tools on the deck plate.

"Condescending reply: _yes_ organic. I am indeed on the lookout for droids. I was simply attempting to expedite repairs, to ensure my master's survival."

"Look, I have nothing against droids. I just don't like being nagged at. I'm doing my best," the miner grumbled uncomfortably.

"Query: how is this relevant?" HK-50 asked, curious.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you. Move the light a little, would you?" the duros miner mumbled. HK noted that several of the organic's fingers were bleeding from recent damage. HK adjusted the angle of the glow rod it held down into the compartment below the deck plates, before returning its attention to their surroundings.

"Query: why are you apologizing? I have no _feelings_ for you to harm. I am a droid. Logic and probability lead me. I have no emotions," HK elaborated, bemused by the miner.

The man swapped tools again, as he continued to connect the fusion furnace.

"I've seen how Choy treats her droids. She loves the things. Treats em' like family," the man grunted, tightening a reluctant connector.

"Statement: how the master treats her property is irrelevant. My objective is to ensure her survival to the best of my ability. It is how I am programmed. Being _loved_ does not change a single algorithm, or subroutine I possess," HK responded flatly.

"Maybe… or maybe not," the man said, smiling briefly at HK.

Emergency lighting suddenly flared to life, the amber glow flaring around the sullen island of cold blue light from the glow-rod.

"Power's back," the miner declared redundantly.

HK however, was watching the organic that had rounded the corner in their section of the administration level. Based on schematics, it had most likely come from the lower levels, using the emergency duct on this level. Distance of ten meters.

"Query: organic, are you in need of assistance?" HK called out.

The organic did not respond, as it approached. Hostile intent probable, and the creature was armed with bladed weaponry. The creature was encased in a light EVA suit of unknown manufacture. It appeared almost too thin to be of use, but seemed designed for maximum mobility.

"Where?" Peison asked, excited.

"Warning: there is an organic approaching, armed with melee weaponry. Hostile intent probable," HK said, raising the glow rod to illuminate the approaching subject.

"I don't see anything," Peison said nervously, clutching his fusion cutter.

"Statement: I have clearly illuminated the organic. Range is five meters," HK said sharply, beginning to retreat.

" _Where?"_ Peison demanded, scrambling up onto the deck, frantically turning his head.

The target reached the miner's position, and snatched the fusion cutter away, before pinning the man to the wall. Without physical contact.

Apparently the miner could now see the unknown hostile.

" _Where is the Jedi?"_ it growled, slowly drawing a knife off its belt. Twenty-three centimeter blade. Serrated. Probable blade composition of duratanium and ionite, based off initial scans.

"I don't know," Peison screamed. The hostile left a bleeding slash across Peison's arm. HK noted black marks at the edge of the wound, which began to follow the surface veins. _Devaronian blood poison_. Painful.

Interesting.

" _Where is she?"_

At the question, HK decided intervention was required. There was a 79.3% probability that this organic was a "Dark Jedi" or "Sith," based off observations so far. The bounty was for _Jedi_ , not Force-users in general. Therefore this creature was not a secondary objective, but competition. An unnecessary complication in an already chaotic environment.

"Query: organic, may I be of assistance?" HK asked pleasantly, approaching the two organics.

The probable Sith turned, to look at HK, although Peison remained pinned to the wall.

" _Yes. We seek a Jedi. She is here. My master has felt her. She must be found_ ," the Sith responded. HK could take no visual cues from body language or facial expression, due to the concealing presence of the EVA suit.

"Clarification: there are no Jedi listed among facility records, and three hundred twenty-seven female personnel. Do you have a secondary qualifier of identification?"  
 _"She tasted Malachor_ ," the Sith answered.

HK was satisfied that this Sith indeed was attempting to poach the bounty on General Meetra Surik, and was not in fact pursuing Jolee Bindo, or a potential third Jedi target that HK was unaware of.

"Answer: I can begin a search of personnel records. One moment please," HK cocked his head to the side, and cut power to his primary photoreceptors (eliminating their ambient illumination) as if engaging in a wireless computer tap. The Sith turned back to Peison, raising its knife.

HK's right hand lashed out, using his IR scanners to land the blow upon the back of the target's neck. The strike was precise, crushing the vertebrae through the unarmored flight suit's material. Without knowing the species, such a blow had a 98.7% chance of resulting in death, or at the least, physical incapacitation. HK picked up the dropped blade, and promptly utilized it to decapitate the (probably) dead target.

Decapitation was always effective.

"Th-th-thank you. You saved—" Peison whispered.

HK extracted the Sith's knife from Peison's sternum.

HK-50 could afford no distractions now.

Power had been restored. The organics would begin surgical procedures to ensure the target's survival. A new threat had been identified, that could not be ignored.

HK-50's next course of action was clear.

((()))

Bryna felt something stir in her chest when the lights slowly flared to life within her medical bay… but she didn't have time to be distracted. Choy was in hypovolemic shock, only barely conscious.

"Does anyone have _any_ medical experience? I'll need an assistant," Bryna said, thrusting her hands into the sterilization field, her jumpsuit's sleeves already folded up past her elbows. Atton and Sully exchanged helpless looks.

"Congratulations Sully, sterilize yourself," Bryna said sharply, immediately heading towards the now unconscious woman on the surgical table. There wasn't much time…

Atton watched as the unlikely pair began their work… there wasn't anything he could do _here_ to help. No one noticed as he quietly left the medical wing.

Atton slipped back into the detention block, and headed straight for the security terminal, setting his sonic drill within easy reach. Before he started in on the logs though, he decided to check the two locked drawers, and armed with a fusion cutter, it didn't take long to force the mechanisms…

The first drawer held an expensive data pad, a security scanner (designed to detect powercells of weapons, etc…), two holo cubes (but they just had personal images of family, Atton guessed), and a compact medpac, the kind a soldier would carry. Atton took the medpac and datapad.

The second drawer though… he hit pay dirt.

Two sets of stun cuffs, as well as the wrist-link that controlled them, and a _security spike tunneler…_

"My, my Chief. What did you need _this_ for?" Atton whispered, picking up the tunneler, which almost resembled a thickened datapad stylus… it created localized interference in electronic locks, making it easier to short them out, and force the lock circuits into the _open_ position.

Atton could think of _many_ uses for such a tool, and slipped it into an interior pocket of his leather jacket.

Now, the terminal…

Atton grinned smugly, copying the security logs to the data pad, and started cutting the conversation apart, discarding everything but the maintenance officer's speech.

 _"Maintenance Control: Voiceprint ID: R1-B5_."

Atton copied the spliced audio file to the recording rod, as well as his comlink, just in case…

((()))

"This is Sergeant Olin. No survivors in rear airlock. Vacuum noted."

Captain Raxton nodded, "Proceed sergeant."

He always hated this part, sitting and waiting to hear if his boys were about to die.

Captain Raxton used the word _boys_ , loosely. _Sergeant_ Olin was fifty-seven years old. One of the few experienced soldiers Raxton had been able to keep in his crew. Perhaps too experienced.

"We found a body. One of the miners. Dead," Olin reported.

"Cause of death?" Raxton asked.

"Sorry sir. Appears to have been from shrapnel of some kind. A hole's been punched through the chest. Through and through. No signs of cauterization," Olin answered.

Could be from the asteroid field. Or enemy action.

"Advancing towards cockpit. More miners. Six so far, all with similar wounds. No carbon scoring on the walls from weapons fire," Olin said, keeping up a periodic running commentary.

((()))

"Molecular adhesive applicator," Bryna said, and the dock officer placed the instrument in her hand after some trial and error. The doctor activated the instrument, and carefully directed it at the worst of the bleeding. The liver and kidneys were such vascular organs…

" _Heart rate has increased twenty beats per minute, and blood pressure is falling,"_ the automated medical scanner reported.

"Increase the transfusion rate by twenty percent," Bryna commanded the computer, moving on to the next perforation… it was like sticking your finger in a leaking dam to plug the holes.

((()))

"Contact left!" Sergeant Olin shouted. Captain Raxton clutched the armrest of his chair helplessly, as he heard men scream, and the muted sounds of Olin's blaster firing, conducted through his hand and armor plates to the helmet comlink. After fifteen seconds, the blaster fire stopped.

"Report, sergeant," Raxton said calmly.

"We lost Corporal Bannai. Some kind of droid. Looked like a sonic weapon of some kind, took his head off. It's dead. Two other droids also destroyed."

"Finish your sweep, and bring one of the droids back with you for analysis, after scanning for explosives," Raxton ordered.

((()))

Choy opened her eyes in a strange place of swirling grey mists that seemed to writhe and twist with a life all its own. It was… cold… here, and she knew she was not alone. She had been brought here.

The mists swirled a little faster to her left, and assumed the vague facsimile of a cloaked humanoid.

"Who are you?" Choy demanded.

" _I am your rescuer - as you are mine,"_ the figure said.

Choy stiffened, "You… I heard your voice."

 _"Yes, I had hoped as much. I slept here too long, and could not awaken,"_ the shadow said, gesturing one nebulous hand at the formless ether that surrounded them.

"Slept too long? Are you… dead?" Choy asked slowly.

" _Close to death, yes, closer than I'd like,"_ the speaker was smiling… though Choy couldn't see the speaker's face, she _knew_ it was so.

"Where are you? I mean, where is your body?" Choy asked, curious.

" _I do not know, and it does not matter. Time is short…"_ the shadow said, growing worried.

"Why? What's wrong?" Choy asked warily.

" _Our enemy draws near… and he will not let you depart without bloodshed,"_

"Who is this enemy?" Choy asked, flatly.

((()))

HK-50 had eliminated three additional unknown organic hostiles, in similar EVA suits to the first. At the moment though, HK-50 was 83.6% certain that the "master" spoken of by the first Sith victim had indeed been located. Possibly. Or it was a sensor ghost. HK-50 did not register any signs of metabolic activity, heat, or respiration in the object… yet it walked without mechanical assistance.

An ambulatory cadaver was not something HK encountered on a regular basis. Especially one armed with a lightsaber.

Further information was required. The assassin droid activated a remote signaler. A pressure door eased open, and six bipedal Mark 2 mining droids ambled into the hallway ahead of the organic procession. Three organics in EVA suits moved to the front, although the possible Sith Master did not vary its pace or course. Silently the organics in EVA suits attacked the mining droids, with pinpoint strikes to power supplies and central processors. The ionite component to the weapons easily disabled the non-combat model droids. No casualties among the sith.

HK-50 pressed the second button on his signal unit. The sonic detonators the assassin had taped to the backs of the Mark 2 droids detonated, tearing the EVA suited sith apart as they stepped over the fallen droids. The Sith master was hurled across the corridor and slammed against the wall with bone shattering force, and did not move. The target's head hung at an angle indicative of shattered vertebrae.

HK-50 cautiously advanced. It had a sonic drill in hand, which (after considerable modification) could now be fired at a range of eight meters. Unfortunately, it could only fire once every ten seconds without fusing any components, and only six times before depleting the power cell.

The target sat up, and HK fired its drill. A lightsaber sprung to life, intercepting the sonic discharge—

Which continued unhindered and severed the target's right arm at the shoulder.

A moment later HK was thrown through the air, deflecting off a stanchion, before hitting a wall and then the deck.

Clearly it was time to reassess combat protocols. The target had regained its feet, and bent to retrieve its arm, which still held the lightsaber.

The Sith's power advantage needed to be eliminated, immediately. HK looked around, locating a maintenance interface, and keyed into the system. Micro-wave mapping tracked the target advancing again, as HK rerouted environmental controls for the corridor that it had just been thrown out of.

Two seconds later the gravity plating began to hum, safeguards disabled.

HK recovered its sonic drill and studied the approaching sith master.

The target stumbled and fell to one knee when gravity registered at 5 G, but continued to strain forward. At 8 G the sith master's head began to dip, no longer able to look at HK, or freely move.

HK fired his sonic drill at 8.25 G. The plane of sonic oscillations sliced through the stationary Sith's neck, toppling the head to the deck. A moment later the grav plating's internal components fused from the overload. In the sudden weightlessness, the corpse began to float… but it was no longer moving of its own accord.

HK-50 studied the body for signs of animation for ten minutes, before determining that the competition had been eliminated as a factor. However, it also decided caution would be best, and decided to remain for a further thirty minutes to ensure termination.

((()))

"The marines have established a data link with the mining ship's computer. Downloading data now, no survivors or further hostiles reported," Commander Torell said.

"Have engineering take a look at the droid, when our boys return," Captain Raxton said, tiredly, rubbing at his eyes.

"Helm, plot me a course to Peragus. Best possible speed,"

((()))

 _Almost finished_ , Bryna thought, as the dock officer continued suctioning the operating site, removing the excess blood, to be cleaned, and transfused back into the patient's circulatory system… but now, the site wasn't immediately filling back up, aside from a few weak trickles.

Bryna resealed the membrane around the liver. She injected a hundred milliliters of kolto extract into the space between the repaired organ and the now intact membrane, where it would stay for several days, before the body eventually absorbed the substance… though it would speed the rate of tissue healing by a factor of _ten_.

She repeated the procedure with the kidney, before she closed the abdominal cavity, but not before leaving another layer of kolto there as well.

((()))

Choy woke in a cold sweat, once more in her leotard… though someone had been thoughtful enough to shroud her with a blanket, at least.

"The droid _showed_ me the security logs! _You_ sabotaged those droids!" Bryna exclaimed.

Choy looked over slowly.

"I was in a cell!" Atton shouted, his face ugly.

"You _claim_ , but no one is left _alive_ to confirm that!" Sully said, siding with the medical officer.

"I don't like being accused of something I didn't do. When I kill someone, trust me, you'll _know._ Got it?" Atton said harshly, his voice dropping into a dangerously quiet tone, his hand resting on the butte of the blaster pistol in his jacket.

"You going to kill me too, Rand?" Sully asked, and Choy noticed that Brynna had a sonic scalpel concealed in her hand… and Atton had stepped forward to intimidate Sully with his presence… which also put him in range of her impromptu weapon.

"I haven't killed _anyone_ ," Atton said, seething with frustration.

"I don't believe you…" Bryna said softly.

"Droids can't be trusted!" Atton retorted.

"And you can?" Sully demanded.

" _Look,_ I could have let you suffocate in those dormitories, and the _second_ a _droid_ points the finger at me, you believe him, without question?" Atton asked incredulously.

Bryna opened her mouth to answer, but Atton held up his hand angrily,

"I'm not finished. You know what? I don't trust _you_. For all I know, _you_ two could have caused all this trouble… or even _her_ ," Atton said, pointing at Choy.

Choy laughed weakly, "Yes, _I_ orchestrated all of this from my stupor in the kolto tank."

Atton's pocket started chiming insistently, and Atton angrily yanked his comlink out, " _What?"_ he snarled.

"Uh… there's a ship approaching," Peison reported, startled by the fury in Atton's voice.

"A freighter?" Atton asked, his anger derailed.

"No… it's a republic warship, the _Harbinger_ ," Peison said.

 _He is close_ , the voice that was voiceless whispered inside Choy's mind.

"Can we hail them?" Brynna asked.

"Sorry. Communications have gone down," Peison said sheepishly.

Atton looked at Choy, "Can you move?" he asked.

"No she _can't_ ," Brynna growled, keeping one hand protectively on Choy's shoulder, in case she decided to jump up. The mechanic had no inclination to do so. For the first time in six hours her lungs didn't have molten needles in them.

"Get a stretcher then. We have to go to _them_ , we can't stay here," Atton insisted, quarrel forgotten (or at least studiously ignored) in the face of the new development.


	4. Chapter 4

Sergeant Olin was the second man through the airlock, stacking to the left as Corporal Neran stacked to the right.

"Clear," Olin transmitted. Second fire team advanced through the air lock, advancing three meters to the next piece of cover, rifles trained deeper into the Peragus facility. It was a bloodbath, literally. Sonic weapons didn't cauterize. Dead miners were scattered all over the deck, with a handful of destroyed droids mixed in.

Lieutenant Salik entered the facility behind Sergeant Olin's squad. He was in charge of securing the facility, and searching for survivors. He was inexperienced, but sharp. Olin liked him. The duros knew when to ask for help.

"Report?" Captain Raxton transmitted.

"Looks like the facility suffered from the droid malfunction as well. Multiple deceased, no survivors noted," Salik answered.

"Begin search and rescue. I want to know what happened here," Raxton growled.

Thirty republic marines in full armor was not something to scoff at, but this was a large facility. Searching it safely would take time. Time survivors might not have.

"Can I task second platoon as well?" Salik asked. The Harbinger was running on a peacetime complement, with a total of three hundred crew. Sixty of them were marines.

There was silence for several seconds, and Salik glanced over at Olin, who shrugged. With a facility this large, it was risky either way. Commit too few, and it wouldn't matter if you had a reserve to send in as back up, because there wouldn't be any survivors to reinforce. Commit too many, and if anything unexpected happened there would be nothing to do but wait for the soldiers to rescue themselves or die.

"Lieutenant, I'm sending second platoon over, ETA seven minutes. Be careful," Raxton answered reluctantly.

"Acknowledged sir," Salik said.

The junior officer turned to Sergeant Olin, "Sergeant, I think securing the command center is a good first step. We can use the facility's security systems to hasten the search."

It was a command phrased as a polite question.

"Agreed sir. Do you want to break down into staggered squads, or proceed at platoon strength?" Olin asked.

Salik glanced at the corridor. It was four meters wide, with minimal cover. Any firefights would be messy, standing-room-only affairs.

"Break down into squads. Fifteen second intervals," Salik replied.

Olin grunted, and signaled third squad. They would be point.

((()))

"Quiet. Did you hear that?" Sully whispered. Brynna looked up from her end of the gurney, glancing at Sully. The group froze, and listened without the sounds of boots on deck plates.

The hollow noise came again.

 _Blaster fire_ , Atton realized.

"Sounds like blasters," Sully whispered.

Brynna looked at Atton, "Go check it out," she whispered. Atton grimaced, but didn't argue. At least he hadn't had to help carry the mechanic.

Sully and Brynna carefully lowered Choy's gurney to the ground and rested. The woman was sleeping again, from the sedatives Brynna had administered. Sully picked his sonic drill up off the gurney, and waited with Brynna around the corner, out of sight of the hatch, nervously panning his glowrod back the way they'd come, watching for droids.

Atton panned his sonic drill, studying the damaged hatch at the end of the ten meter hall in the light of the taped on glowrod. _Something_ had hit the other side of the hatch with impressive force, bowing out sections of it.

Atton wasn't picking up any com chatter, but if there _were_ republic soldiers, they would probably be using tight-beam line of sight transmissions between them, and encrypted transmissions to their superiors. Neither of which would be detectable on so basic a comlink as his. But they might be monitoring those channels.

The problem; was the droids would quickly home in on open broadcasts…

Atton dialed down the power on his comlink transmission, hopefully it wouldn't be detectable beyond a hundred meter radius.

"To anyone who can hear this, we need help. Please respond," Atton transmitted as he walked back towards the group.

"Rand, what are you doing?" Sully hissed, "That's an open channel!"

"I know. Shut up," Rand retorted.

"Identify yourself," a voice responded from the comlink.

Atton grinned snidely at Sully, and handed the comlink to Brynna.

"Well?" Atton prodded.

Brynna scowled at Atton, "My name is Brynna Coro. I'm the chief medical officer of Peragus."

"We've triangulated your transmission. Stay where you are," the voice answered.

"I understand," Brynna said.

A few seconds later Atton heard the muted snarl of fusion cutters, coming from the damaged hatch.

"Sully, help me move Choy," Brynna said. The two lifted the stretcher, and moved closer to the hatch, towards rescue. Atton slowly drifted to the back of the group, keeping his glow rod pointed back the way they'd come, as if watching for droids. He stayed at the corner, where he could keep an eye on the hatch, and the way back.

Really, he was positioning himself in case he needed to run. Just because it _looked_ like a republic warship didn't mean that it wasn't a pirate vessel. Atton touched the small hold-out blaster in a pouch of the mining suit's utility harness, to reassure himself which pouch it was in.

If the people on the other side of the hatch came through blasters blazing, then Atton could slip away. They might not even know he'd escaped, assuming he was Sully…

Unless it was a legitimate rescue. Either way, he would survive.

A fusion cutter breached the hatch in a shower of blinding sparks. Several seconds later the hatch was kicked in, and three armored shapes cautiously advanced through the gap.

Atton recognized the armor. Republic marines. They had blaster rifles too.

"Are you Coro?" One trooper asked, tactical lamp on his helmet illuminating Brynna. The soldiers' blaster rifles remained pointed at the floor, but could be snapped up to fire if threatened.

"I am," the woman nodded, squinting from the light.

"We have orders to provide triage, and retrieve survivors," the soldier stated. One trooper with a larger tactical pack broke from the trio, and crouched next to Choy's stretcher, pulling out a compact medical scanner.

"Lieutenant. We found three survivors," one of the soldiers reported, hand to his helmet. He'd forgotten to disable his external speakers.

 _Green… very green_ — Atton thought suspiciously.

Atton spotted movement at the hatch, and saw two more soldiers stacked up there, ready to provide suppressing fire incase the three exposed soldiers needed to advance or retreat.

— _but not stupid…_

Atton ejected the power cell from the hold-out blaster, and flipped the catch on the grip, breaking the weapon down into two innocuous components. He hid them in his tunic.

"Four, actually," Atton said, carefully stepping out into the open, drill held out to his side, clearly non-threatening, his hands far from the trigger.

The soldier on the left gestured for him to approach, and join the others.

((()))

Captain Raxton stood on the bridge, staring out the starboard viewport at the Peragus facility. He watched one of the ministry-class shuttles detach from a docking umbilical, and coast back towards his ship with the recovered survivors.

"Captain, we found something… strange," Lieutenant Salik reported.

"Details, lieutenant," Raxton replied patiently.

"We found a Jedi. A dead one," Salik replied.

"If its dead, how do you know it's a Jedi?" Captain Raxton asked.

"We found the lightsaber, sir," Salik clarified.

Which still didn't mean it was a Jedi. Hundreds of lightsabers had been scavenged from battlefields in the last decade alone.

"Scan the body for traps, then bring it aboard. We'll see if it _was_ a Jedi or not," Raxton shook his head. Salik was too quick to make assumptions, but at least he was a quick learner.

((()))

Jolee frowned. The vague sense of danger had passed, and… something else felt different. The hermit crouched down and centered himself, reaching out with his senses. The Force had altered in the immediate vicinity. Jolee couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was different…

Bindo pulled out his comlink and turned it on.

"Kel, are you picking up anything… out of the ordinary?" Jolee asked.

"You turned off your comlink," Lashowe answered waspishly.

"Why, yes I did. Must have hit one of the little buttons," Jolee replied patiently.

"We talked about this," Lashowe growled.

"Did we? My memory's not what it used to be," Jolee said, cranking up his crotchety old-man act.

"Jolee. A Hammer-head class cruiser is in station keeping a kilometer from the peragus facility. It's launched and recovered several shuttles in the last hour," Kel interrupted helpfully.

"Might by one of Carth's ships," Jolee said, straightening up, his knees popping painfully. Damned arthritis.

"We attempted to contact you when it entered sensor range but somehow your comlink had shut itself off again," Kel continued. Jolee could hear Lashowe making several _baseless_ accusations under her breath, just within range of the comlink's pickup. Jolee felt the corner of his mouth twitch up into a reluctant smirk.

Needling the impulsive woman was one of the few joys he still indulged.

It was the little things.

"Prep the Hawk for departure. One way or another, we're getting on that ship," Jolee said, breaking into a jog.

"Jolee… the Ebon Hawk is a remarkable ship… but a _cruiser_ might be a little beyond our capabilities to seize—" Kel pointed out cautiously.

Jolee wasn't listening as he turned the comlink off again, tucking it back onto his belt. The thing he'd come to find… it was on that ship.

 _So bloody close_ …

((()))

"This is excellent work," the republic surgeon remarked, studying the medical scans. He was in his late sixties, if Brynna had to guess, most likely called back from retirement, due to the shortage of _experienced_ personnel the Republic was suffering from. The wrinkles around his gray eyes gave an illusion of either perpetually staring into a bright light, or short-sightedness. He glanced over at Brynna, his originally distant demeanor opening up a little.

"Especially considering the complexity and quantity of injuries."

"I've dealt with similar trauma cases. They're a common occurrence in industrial settings," Brynna responded.

"That's odd," the surgeon said, peering closely at the scans, "Does this woman have any Zeltron heritage?"

"No. I noticed that neurological activity as well, it was present on my initial examination too," Brynna said.

"Well, it doesn't appear to be life threatening," the surgeon shrugged, smiling in reassurance to Brynna.

"The facilities during her second surgery were crude, due to the partial repairs to my medical bay. I wasn't able to fully repair the liver hemorrhage," Coro said, ignoring the placation.

"This woman's injuries won't kill her. As she is, she might even recover without additional surgery. We can wait until tomorrow, give her body time to recover, before another surgery," the surgeon answered. The smile remained, but his eyes were firm.

"Why wait?" Brynna demanded, glancing at Choy's unconscious face.

"Because Miss Verdan might not be my _only_ patient. I'll reconsider postponing the surgery after our soldiers return to the ship," the surgeon replied.

((()))

Jolee tugged his robes into place, and clipped his lightsaber prominently to his belt. Kel and Lashowe had also retrieved their lightsabers from the starboard dormitory's smuggling compartment. First impressions were important. The deck of the Ebon Hawk shuddered as Kel brought them out of the Peragus hanger. Jolee held onto the holoprojector in the main hold until the inertial compensators caught up.

"Lashowe, be a dear and hail the cruiser," Jolee said. He left the line to the cockpit open.

"They're responding," Lashowe reported tersely.

"Ask for a face to face communication," Jolee replied.

An indicator lit up on Jolee's panel. He activated it, and a holographic image wavered to life in front of him.

"This is Captain Raxton of the Republic cruiser, Harbinger; who am I addressing?" the blue-hued man in a republic captain's naval uniform demanded stiffly.

"Greetings, captain. My name is Jolee Bindo. It's probably my fault you're out here," Jolee said, smiling slightly. His name had become _slightly_ famous after the Jedi civil war.

The captain blinked, clearly recognizing the name.

"Are you responsible for this situation?" the captain asked coolly.

"No, but I assume Carth sent you, and that part _is_ my fault," Jolee chuckled.

"Do you know what happened here?" Captain Raxton asked.

"Perhaps. Captain, may I come aboard? I don't wish to discuss this where it might be intercepted," Jolee said, letting his smile fade.

"Do you have any way to authenticate your claims?" Captain Raxton asked.

Jolee hated code phrases.

"Talon strikes rock," the Jedi grumbled. It was one of Carth's _unofficial_ codes. One that all of his (trusted) captains knew.

"Light sheds form," the captain answered.

The republic captain stared at him for several seconds, before nodding quickly.

((()))

A security detachment (of armed crewmen, not marines) met the alleged Jedi at the airlock, and escorted him to the captain's conference room. Raxton wasn't comfortable leaving the bridge during an operation, but trusted Torrell to keep everything together. Also, it was only a sixty-second sprint to the bridge.

The doors to the conference room closed around the group of crewmen, and the hooded man.

"Weapons?" Raxton asked.

"Only a lightsaber," a petty officer reported, holding up the weapon for inspection.

"You may wait outside," Raxton told the four crewmen.

The doors closed again, and the cowled man tugged his hood off. He _appeared_ to be Jolee Bindo.

"Let me be frank, captain," the man said.

"Please. It would be a refreshing change from most interactions with Jedi," Raxton replied.

"I can't tell you what happened here," Jolee said.

"Then why ask to speak to me?" Raxton demanded.

"Captain, I've been hunting something. Something _probably_ very dangerous, for almost a year. It was on Peragus. Now it's on your ship," Jolee said flatly.

Raxton stared into the Jedi's eyes. Eyes that had seen too much, for too long.

Raxton knew those eyes. He saw them in the mirror every morning.

"Lieutenant Trent is in charge of the Peragus investigation. He is on deck four. He'll know what has been brought aboard from Peragus," Captain Raxton said quietly.

"An escort would be appreciated," Jolee said grimly.

"And your lightsaber?" Raxton suggested.

"That might help… or it might not," Jolee admitted.

The intercom pinged.

"Go ahead commander," Raxton answered.

"Lieutenant Salik reports that he's accounted for all of the Peragus personnel, and has finished data mining the main computers," Commander Torrell said.

"Acknowledged, shut down the facility and bring our boys home," Captain Raxton replied. Proper salvage teams could be dispatched to repair the volatile facility.

((()))

Atton studied the mess hall, as he dug into the naval fare. It was somewhat bland… but still better than rehydrated emergency rations. Two naval crewmen, their sidearms holstered, stood watch by the entrance. Atton glanced at Sully, but the man stared at his food, picking at it. The past day was starting to catch up with the dock officer, now that he had time to think about it.

Their sonic drills and EVA suits had been confiscated, but they'd been allowed to keep their clothes after a security scan. It hadn't flagged the disassembled blaster components in his jacket as dangerous.

Atton was starting to get a bad feeling…

((()))

"Who didn't secure the hatch?"

Sergeant Olin looked up, as the co-pilot of the shuttle leaned out of the cockpit. Olin was closest to the back, he'd boarded the cramped shuttle last.

"Improper seal?" he asked over comlink.

"No, computer's registering the hatch as _open_ ," the pilot answered, also via comlink.

"Shift it, lads," Olin grunted, squeezing between two corporals, their plastoid pauldrons and chestplates clacking loudly in the tight space.

The rear air lock _was_ open.

Olin signaled the door to cycle. An error flashed, and the door remained open.

"Safeguards are active. It's registering an obstruction," Olin reported.

"We've been having trouble with the proximity sensors. Reboot the array. It should clear the sensor ghosts," the co-pilot instructed.

Olin cleared the sensor data, resetting it to default. The door chimed at him cheerfully, and began to close, no longer detecting an obstruction.

((()))

"We found four survivors. Two are in medical, two are in the mess hall," Lieutenant Trent told Jolee, as they walked through the corridors.

"Which is closer?" Jolee asked.

"Medical," Trent answered.

"Well, let's go there first," Jolee replied. He still had two naval crewmen as "escorts."

The doors to the medical bay cycled open, revealing a dozen empty kolto-tanks, and empty bio-beds.

Except one of the beds wasn't empty. Jolee sighed, glancing at another dead miner. Three survivors then.

Two people looked up at his entrance.

One of them was dressed in Peragus uniform, the other Republic.

"Who are you?" the woman (in Peragus uniform) asked.

"Actually, that's my question," Jolee answered, probing the woman cautiously. He wished he knew exactly _what_ he was looking for…

"Brynna Coro. Chief Medical officer of Peragus. Why do you want to know?" the woman repeated. Jolee traced the woman's surface memories. She was (apparently) concerned for her patient.

"How long have you been on Peragus?" Jolee asked.

"Six years," she answered sharply. _Truth_.

"Ever leave?" Jolee asked.

"Yes," she answered. _Truth_.

"Where did you go?"

"Bonadan," the woman said. _Truth._

"Really?" Jolee asked, "Why Bonadan?"

"I like the beaches," the woman growled. _Lie_.

"Never did like beaches. Too much sand. And the water. Terrible, wet places," Jolee chuckled.

The woman crossed her arms, "Is this going to take much longer?" _Worried_.

"You have somewhere else to be?" Jolee asked curiously.

"No, but my patient requires further care," Coro said, gesturing to the corpse on the bio-bed. _Truth._

Jolee winced.

"Miss. The woman is dead," Jolee said gently.

Which was when the corpse shifted restlessly in her sleep.

Jolee yelped, drawing his lightsaber, staring at the body on the bed. The Force studiously insisted that she didn't exist. There was a human shaped void where a body lay.

Jolee lowered his unlit lightsaber, cautiously approaching the void.

"It's _her_ ," Jolee whispered, realization dawning.

Jolee carefully touched the woman's hand. Alive. He felt a pulse in her wrist, saw her chest rise and fall delicately, the flicker of eyes behind lids in dream—

—but sensed nothing.

The Force was blind to this woman. Her actions were invisible, and affected the future, changing it, without alerting anyone to the changes made. The only symptom was the strange dissonance, like watching an out of focus image… as what was _foreseen_ did not match what _happened._

Jolee looked up, realizing that someone had been speaking to him, in a quite angry tone. The young doctor. Brynna Coro. Her indignation for the treatment of her patient faltered to a sudden stop, as she saw Jolee's face.

"Who is this woman?" Jolee asked.

"Choy Verdan. She's a mechanic," Coro answered.

Jolee clipped his lightsaber back to his belt.

"Tell me _everything_ you know about her," Jolee demanded.

Jolee had never encountered anything like _Choy Verdan_.

Jolee wore a tunic made from the hide of a Terentatek, a creation of Exar Kun, bred and twisted through Sith Alchemy to be immune to the Force (to hunt Jedi). It _hid_ in the force, but was essentially an illusion. A trick of mirrors in the Force.

But this… this was different. The Force _ended_ where the woman's body began. A human shaped bubble of emptiness. Something impossible. The Force was everywhere.

 _Except here_.

Jolee blinked and stepped back, feeling as if he'd been staring into an abyss.

((()))

Darkness.

Patterns of force.

Pain.

Return to the form.

Unending.

((()))

Atton looked up from his food as more people entered the mess hall. One of them practically _screamed_ Jedi. The brown hooded cloak was a giveaway. Not many people wore them anymore. Aside from refugees, of course.

The Jedi was here for them, Atton guessed.

"Tell me about Choy Verdan," the Jedi demanded, looking between Atton and Sully.

Instinctively Atton focused on the mechanic, the swell of breasts beneath the skin tight body suit, her short cropped hair, the curve of her jaw. He let the lust saturate his mind, and clung to the images.

The Jedi raised a gray eyebrow at him, and looked at Sully instead.

"How long has she been on Peragus?" the Jedi asked.

"I'm not sure. She's been there ever since I started working," Sully admitted.

"And how long is that?" the Jedi asked.

"About… seven years. I started after I left home. The pay was good," Sully explained.

 _And it let you avoid the war_ , Atton sneered, but remained focused on Choy's body.

"What about you?" the Jedi asked, looking at Atton.

"I started three years ago. She's always been here," Atton replied smoothly.

((()))

"Helm, bring us about, set course for the edge of the asteroid field," Captain Raxton said, standing at the prow of the bridge.

"Extend shields to cover the freighter," Commander Torrell ordered from the rear.

"Hopefully our visitor's business will be concluded by the time we clear the field," Raxton told Torrell. The junior officer nodded. Then he collapsed, a fine mist of blood flying from the back of his neck.

Raxton had a moment to blink before the primary weapons officer turned in his chair, staring at the falling commander, before his head twisted at an unnatural angle, and he tipped forward out of his chair.

Ensign Brikan howled, swinging the nearest weapon at hand (his datapad) at empty air. Then blood erupted from under the twi'lek's chin. Raxton lunged for the ship-wide com. Alert the crew.

He didn't make it.

Raxton felt a split second of pain, as something severed his spine above the C2 vertebrae.

He collapsed, barely feeling the pain as his face slammed into the console, his knees naturally propping him half-way upright. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. He blinked in mounting panic and horror. Indifferent hands pushed him aside, and Raxton fell onto his back, head cracking against unforgiving deckplates.

A black shape sat down at the terminal and begin to tap commands into the interface with brisk efficiency. There hadn't been time to secure the consoles… the ship's internal sensors, countermeasures—

((()))

Kel glanced at the control console, frowning. The boarding hatch had opened. Jolee was back already?

"Are we departing?" Kel called out.

Jolee didn't answer.

Kel turned as he felt a spike of pain, and terror from Lashowe.

The young man erupted from the cockpit, barreling down the corridor to the main hold.

T3-M4 squealed, integrated blaster firing at empty air as Lashowe scrambled across the hold towards Kel, left arm leaving a trail of blood behind her. She still held their daughter in her right arm.

One of the Peragus droids clattered into the hold, and T3-M4 blatted something at it. A moment later the crab-like droid raised its fire-suppression emitters. The beams of super-cooled fire-retardent chemicals _hit_ something in mid air. Kel was already moving, lightsaber a red blur as he struck. A body tumbled into sight, bisected diagonally from the top left shoulder down to just above the right hip. A bloody knife was still clutched in one hand.

"Detach!" Lashowe barked.

Kel blinked, before he realized what she meant, and rushed back to the cockpit, severing the docking connection, and powering up the Ebon Hawk's maneuvering thrusters.

An alarm blared at him. Apparently the cruiser had extended its shields to protect them. Which meant they were trapped within the shields. Kel brought the Hawk down and activated the magnetic landing clamps, securing the ship to the cruiser's hull.

Then he ran back into the hold. His wife was injured. Again.

((()))

Choy woke up to the sound of screaming. Someone was dragging her out of the bed. Panicked, Choy fought for a moment, before recognizing the medical officer.

" _Where is the Jedi?"_ a voice asked. It sent slivers of dread creeping through her mind.

Adrenaline coursed through Choy, as the medical officer dragged them behind one of the nearby kolto tanks, concealed by the bulky housing at its base.

The screaming cut off wetly.

Footsteps echoed off the deck plate.

Closer. Closer… then they stopped.

Choy clamped a hand over the medical officer's mouth, smothering the other woman's panting, holding her own breath.

Then the medical officer was gone, yanked from behind the housing.

"No!" the medical officer screamed.

" _Where is the Jedi?"_ the voice repeated. Choy curled tightly against the housing, slowly peeking around its edge. She could see the door, and one black garbed leg.

"Mess hall," the medical officer choked.

Hot blood exploded, spattering Choy, and most of the room.

Something heavy hit the deck, and the doors to the medical bay opened.

HK-50 stood in the doorway, blaster pistol in one hand, a medical hypo held in the other. It seemed to hesitate for a moment, photoreceptors meeting Choy's, assessing the unexpected situation. Then it opened fire at _something_ , backpedalling.

 _"You."_

The kolto tank Choy hid behind ripped itself from the deck and pulverized HK-50 against the corridor wall. Apparently a power relay had been hit as well. The lights in the area died, before the amber emergency lighting engaged.

Choy didn't move, fully exposed.

Something stood two meters away from her, back to her. It looked like a man in the meager flickering light. Choy didn't even breathe.

After several long seconds the man started walking, disappearing down the corridor.

The adrenaline ebbed, and Choy felt her body screaming at her. She threw up, each heave making her chest hurt more, only a meter away from the medical officer's headless corpse.

Everybody around her was dying.

It was happening again.

((()))

"What kind of person is she?" the Jedi asked. Sully hesitated, glancing at Atton.

"She's… she keeps to herself," Sully admitted. Atton shifted a little farther to his right along the table, away from Sully, and continued eating.

The Jedi frowned.

"There's more to it, son," the old man said gently, acting the kindly grandfather. Atton didn't buy it. Jedi were hypocrites. They professed to be protectors of peace, but their signature weapon, the lightsaber, only had one setting. Kill.

"She's… sad," Sully whispered.

"Go on," the Jedi said encouragingly. He was probably using his powers on Sully, Atton suspected.

"She's always very careful. Makes sure everybody's safe. But she won't look people in the eyes. Doesn't let people touch her," Sully said, with mounting surety.

 _Definitely not acting like himself,_ Atton decided.

"She never spoke about where she came from before?" the Jedi asked.

"No," Sully said. Then he glanced down, thoughtfully.

"Well… maybe," the dock officer hedged.

"What did she say?" the Jedi asked, his kindly façade slipping a little. He was _very_ interested, Atton saw.

"She has a utility droid. It's hers, she said, and she understands it. 3C-FD," Sully said.

Atton didn't see how that was helpful. A lot of people had utility droids. Republic space was lousy with the little cargo cylinders.

"I don't follow," the Jedi admitted, unable to see how it was relevant either.

"She _loves_ that droid. I don't think she's ever wiped its _memory_ , like most owners would, to prevent their droids from developing idiosyncrasies and… personality," Sully explained.

So the droid was probably a rolling record of the mechanic's history…

The Jedi leaned back thoughtfully, studying Sully from across the mess hall table. Then his brow wrinkled, and he looked over Sully's shoulder. After a moment, Sully turned to look over his shoulder, but there wasn't anything there.

"Playing tricks on me—" Atton heard the Jedi mutter, but there was a hint of uncertainty to his voice, and Atton noted that the Jedi's hand had crept back into his robes.

Atton's gut twisted, rolling with sudden anxiety. The Jedi's gaze flicked to him, eyes widening.

Then blood sprayed across the table, from Sully's neck, hitting the Jedi's robes.

 _Left carotid,_ Atton noted in the back of his mind, as his body kept him alive.

Atton instinctively grabbed Sully's falling body, using him as a shield in the time it took to slither under the table. A lightsaber snarled and hissed nearby. Atton scrambled along under the long mess hall table. He heard a blaster fire wildly, before it went silent, and clattered to the deck. Then the doors to the mess hall closed behind Atton, and the pilot blinked, taking a moment to _think_. The hanger was aft of the mess hall.

((()))

Choy trembled on all fours, trying to fight. Her fingers were numb, and the numbness had spread up her wrist, to her elbows. There wasn't enough air. Her lungs weren't large enough. Cold sweat glistened on her skin. She couldn't see. Crushing her… crushing—

 _It is not your eyes that are blind_ , a voice whispered.

She'd not had an attack in three years.

Choy focused on her fingers, studied the tiny scars earned from working with metal. Creases in her knuckles. Chipped fingernails.

 _There is no time for this foolishness, He is looking for you. You must find a means of leaving this vessel,_ the voice growled.

The numbness was in her wrists.

There was some dried kolto peeling off the back of her right hand in gentle, feathery flakes. Choy took a deep breath, fighting the urge to breathe rapidly, and softly exhaled, blowing on the tufts, watching them sway in the sudden breeze.

Her fingertips were numb.

Slowly Choy stood, studying her clenched fists. With one last deep breath, she let her fingers unfurl.

She was in control again.

If she followed her rules, she would be fine.

Choy realized she could hear a whirring noise, and a faint electronic beeping. Somewhere, a droid was in distress. Choy followed the sound deeper into the medical bay, and found a second body. Not the Peragus medical officer. This one was wearing a republic uniform. It had been thrown across the small surgical bay, and was sprawled on top of a medical droid. Choy avoided looking at the ragged neck stump, pulling on a still clean sleeve of the corpse, pulling it off the small droid.

With a muted string of clicks and beeps, the small surgical assistant tried to rise on its repulsorlift, attempting to straighten out the tangle of finely articulated grasper arms that hung beneath its body. There was blood on its cylindrical housing. It had been damaged in the fall. It continued to struggle with increasing distress.

Choy looked at the twitching droid sadly, before reaching down, and powering it off. She rose, and stared at the little droid for several seconds.

She couldn't abandon it.

((()))

Atton quietly closed the maintenance hatch behind him, secure in the darkness, no longer feeling as exposed in the brightly lit corridor. He carefully reassembled his hold-out blaster, mostly by touch. There were small flickers of colored light, indicators on the various panels and cables that surrounded him, but it was a sullen light, that seemed to make it _harder_ to see. Atton didn't care. This crawl-space wouldn't take him to the hangers, but it would get him a hundred meters closer.

Whatever had killed Sully wasn't _after_ Atton, so as long as he stayed out of the way, and did not present himself as a convenient kill… he _should_ be fine. He doubted an invisible creature would bother with stealthy avenues of movement. It didn't need to hide. Sudden light blinded him, as a hatch opened ahead of him.

"Please!—" the plea was cut off by a wet choking sound, and Atton heard a body hit the deck. A hand sprawled into the wedge of light, and twitched for a few seconds before slackening. With the hatch open Atton could hear more screams, and occasional blaster fire, but the sounds seemed to be growing fainter. Atton waited until the sounds stopped, then waited another five minutes, just to be safe, before he began crawling forward again. He paused at the edge of the open hatch, cautiously peeking out. A terrified woman's face stared up at him, one hand out flung, as she reached for something she would never grasp. Her throat had been slit. She'd been trying to escape into the maintenance hatch. Other bodies littered the corridor. A couple lights were flickering, damaged by errant blaster bolts. Atton saw a blaster pistol half a meter away on the deck, but turned away, uninterested. It wasn't worth the risk, blasters clearly hadn't helped against the foe so far. The rogue continued on down the maintenance crawl-space.

((()))

"Seal the hatch," Olin panted, as Corporal Neran sabotaged the locking mechanism of the pressure door with his vibroblade.

"I've cut power to the activator. This door isn't going anywhere," the young man reported. A blast of sparks shot from the open panel, making the corporal recoil.

"Power surge?" Olin asked.

Before the young corporal could answer, the pressure door began to creep up into its housing.

"Cut the power!" Olin barked. Neran dove back to the open circuit panel, and began frantically hunting through the boards and circuits.

"I'm cutting power to this section," Neran yelped. The lights died, as did the air scubbers… but in the light of the marines helmet lamps, the door was still rising. There was a six centimeter gap. Then it halted.

"Stack up. Two ranks, seven meter distance, activate tac lights," Olin growled over the comlink. His mixture of marines and crewmen redressed their ranks, the armored marines crouching in the first rank, rifles leveled. Unarmored crewmen with blasters stood behind them, forced to rely on the marine's helmet mounted tactical lights for illumination. The grav plating had also failed, but the plating on Deck Four below them apparently still functioned, so although Olin felt _lighter_ his boots were still resting on the deck.

Then they waited.

((()))

Choy shifted the small droid under her arm, trying to keep it from poking her healing ribs. Something made more difficult by the cramped crawlspaces she was using to hide from the _thing_ from the med bay.

 _STOP_.

The voice sounded almost like a shout, deafening Choy for a moment.

The mechanic froze in the darkness.

 _Death lies that way,_ the voice continued, a whisper this time.

The only way forward was down the dark access chute. Unless there was a maintenance access nearby…

((()))

Atton continued to wait, blaster leveled, at the source of the sounds he'd heard behind him in the darkness. It might be a crewmember. Or it might not. Atton wasn't going to lose sleep over it. He heard more furtive movements, but they hadn't grown closer… then a haze of light partially illuminated the duct, from around a corner, ten meters behind him. There was a click, and the light vanished.

Whatever it was had _apparently_ decided to leave the duct, which was fine with Atton. He waited another seven minutes, blaster pointed, ready to fire, in case it was a trick, and the thing _hadn't_ actually crawled out of the vent. Then he resumed his journey to the hanger bays.

((()))

"Sergeant… I don't think anyone's coming through," a crewman whispered.

The old sergeant felt a sudden sinking sensation.

"You two, come with me," the sergeant whispered, tapping the crewmen on their shoulders. "The rest of you, hold position," Olin finished.

He led the way down the unlit corridor, tac light slashing at the darkness… and his fears were realized.

A second emergency bulkhead had been lowered. They were trapped.

((()))

The ruinous echo paced the halls of ordered metal. The end of all things was close, but the echo could not perceive it. Intransient beings were brushed aside in the search, notable only by the brevity of their interactions with the husk. Explosions of matter and energy occasionally gave the echo pause, for a moment, long enough to employ slivers of power to protect the physical remnants of the manifestation from confusion that would require _time_ to reorder. Time had no meaning. Inconsequential.

It was strange… for it to be _fleeting_.

((()))

"Jammed, sir," Cpl. Neran reported grimly.

" _Fierfeik_ ," Olin hissed, staring at the maintenance hatch.

There wasn't anything useful connected to this corridor, Olin knew, since all they had access to were a dozen enlisted crew quarters. Still, it was something to do.

"Split into pairs, a marine and an enlisted, start searching the quarters for anything we could use to repair or force the doors… tool kits, _anything_ ," Olin told Neran quietly.

"Even glow rods would be useful, for the crewmen," Neran noted, shrugging.

((()))

Atton slowly raised the hatch in the roof of the turbolift, squinting against the flickering light that leaked into the shaft. A dead ensign was sprawled in the lift below, a blaster bolt had cratered most of the man's face. Atton silently slithered through the hatch, hanging by his fingertips for a moment to arrest the resulting downward momentum, before dropping the ten centimeters to the deck, absorbing the impact in his knees to muffle his landing. He noted several blaster impacts in the wall on the far side from the closed lift doors. Looked like friendly fire. Atton disabled the turbo-lift's interior lighting, and the damaged light cut out. Atton found the manual release lever for the doors, and quietly inched them apart using the palms of his hands, until he could place an eye against the slit. No light. So the secondary lift doors were likely closed, or they were open, and the lighting had been knocked out in the corridor beyond.

The hanger was only fifty meters away.

((()))

Choy froze in the doorway of a darkened corridor. She felt safer in the darkness for some reason. It was not impenetrable though, because the emergency bulkhead before her had only partially fallen, leaving a gap at the bottom. She could see the occasional beam of a glow rod dart against that gap. She could also hear hushed voices. The voice was silent, so Choy took a chance.

She picked up a fallen blaster and rapped the butte against the bulkhead. Several lights converged on the bottom of the door, and Choy edged her feet closer to the wall, and out of any direct fire, should there be hostiles on the other side.

In the sudden silence of held breathe, Choy could hear armored boots quietly advancing towards the door.

"Identify," someone barked.

"Choy Verdan, Peragus Maintenance," Choy responded, "Identify," she challenged.

"Sergeant Olin, Republic Marines," the voice growled.

"Can you raise the blast door, sergeant?" Choy asked.

"No. Power's been cut to this section. Can you restore it from your side?" the sergeant asked.

"This ship… it's a hammerhead class, correct?" Choy asked.

"Yes…" the sergeant answered.

"Do you know if it's still using the old El-five internal configuration?" Choy asked.

"From the mandalorian wars? No, it's an El-seven," the soldier responded.

"Can you direct me to the nearest maintenance locker then?" Choy asked.

((()))

Atton scowled, and moved on to the next Aurek-class fighter. It too had been sabotaged. The rogue inspected the entire squadron… but someone had taken a vibro-blade to the flight controls and computer in each ship. They couldn't fly. Then Atton checked the two shuttles. Sabotaged. _Damn._

Not that the shuttles would have done him much good without hyperdrives. Same for escape pods.

"Find what you're looking for?"

Atton spun and fired twice, barely perceiving the words.

Invisible fingers wrapped around Atton's blaster hand, skewing his aim wide.

The old man raised an eyebrow.

"You startled me," Atton shrugged.

"Twitchy fellow, aren't you?" the Jedi grumbled.

"It's why I'm still alive," Atton retorted.

The Jedi made a noncommittal noise, but was still holding Atton's blaster hand.

"Mind letting go?" Atton prodded, glancing down at his immobile hand.

"Hmm? Ah," the Jedi lowered his hand, and Atton's hand jerked, no longer straining against invisible forces.

"Someone disabled the support craft," Atton said, "You have a way off this ship?"

"Yes…" the Jedi said coolly, "But I need to find someone first."

((()))

Choy found the toolkit she needed thirty meters from the bulkhead, as well as an unexpected bonus, along the way. A crewman had been killed by stray blaster fire, not a blade, so his uniform was relatively clean. Choy gently closed his staring eyes, before pulling off the durable uniform. The boots were too large, so Choy simply rolled up the ankles of the uniform. Besides, her bare feet were nearly silent on the metal deck. She just had to watch out for debris that might cut her.

Choy opened the access hatch in the deck, staring at the mess with her new glowrod.

"Verdan, is that you?" a voice demanded.

"Yes, sergeant. I'm looking at the power distribution system now," Choy said, distracted.

"ETA on repairs?" the sergeant prodded.

"Something made a _kriffing_ mess. Half of the safety systems are slag. Some kind of power surge," Choy reported, cautiously poking a power calibrator through the half-melted tangled nest. She could use the power calibrator to power the emergency bulkhead door, for roughly sixty seconds. Perhaps long enough to raise it high enough for people to slip under. She didn't know why there was a six centimeter gap. Without power, the bulkhead should have sealed itself, incase of hull breach. Something must have jammed in the mechanism, or broken… which might make raising it impossible, or merely problematic. She didn't have the tools to get into the housing or track.

"What about the maintenance hatch?" Choy asked.

"Jammed," the sergeant reported.

She had a fusion torch in the tool kit. The hatch would be simpler to cut through than repairing the damaged door.

Choy heard the sound of rending metal.

"Contact!" someone screamed.

"Form, ranks, concentrate fire!" someone yelled. Blaster fire drowned out any further words.

After only a few seconds though, the blaster fire died down to only sporadic shots, and Choy could hear screaming.

 _He is here. Hide,_ the voice whispered. Choy looked around frantically, then down, at the open access panel. Power had been cut. The exposed conduits weren't live. Probably.

Choy slithered down into the narrow space, and started to pull the panel down.

 _There's no release_ , Choy realized. The crawl space wasn't meant for people to access from the inside, so there wasn't a release on the inside.

Frantically Choy looked around for something flat and metallic, that she could wedge over the locking mechanism without revealing that the panel wasn't quite shut.

 _THERE IS NO TIME_ , the voice screamed, and Choy yanked the panel shut. She still had a fusion cutter.

The metal plate fell home over her, and she felt the tremor through the plate as the latch clicked, through her contact across her back.

There was a tremendous reverberation that Choy felt through her entire body, trapped in the airless, cramped space… probably the emergency bulkhead being breached.

Choy fought to keep her breathing under control. She couldn't have an attack here.

 _You are not alone_ , the voice whispered, cold claws caressed the back of her mind. It was meant as a kindness, Choy thought.

Something landed on the deck above her. She could feel it on her right shoulder. Something else fell, this time over her left shoulder.

 _It's standing over me…_ Choy realized. Footsteps.

There was silence for an endless heartbeat.

 _It knows…_ Choy bit her lip, focusing on her breathing, constricted as it was between the conduits and the hatch.

 _Impact_. A foot step. Farther to the left.

Choy realized that the creature's slow pace hadn't actually faltered, just her perception of it.

She waited in the darkness, clutching her fusion cutter tightly. How long should she wait? There was only the air she had sealed in here… but too soon, and the creature might be drawn to the sounds of the fusion cutter…

The acrid stench of burnt plastics was starting to make her feel light headed.

((()))

Atton followed the Jedi cautiously, ears pricked for even the slightest _clue_ that there was something invisible nearby. The lights were still on in this section, bright deceptively cheerful. Atton wanted to get back into the maintenance corridors…

The Jedi's hood was down, and he was constantly looking ahead, and behind.

Interesting, like he didn't trust his Force senses… only his eyes.

Atton didn't know why the mechanic was so important to the Jedi.

They rounded the corner, and the Jedi hesitated, studying the ruined corridor. A pressure bulkhead had fallen and locked itself. It had been split down the middle, and the two flaps peeled inward… lighting was out, making the gap appear to be a dark slot, malevolent almost, like a predator's pupil.

A damaged glow rod was flickering weakly about thirty meters away, within the next corridor, giving scanty illumination that actually made the darkness more confusing.

"I'll go first," the Jedi whispered, igniting his lightsaber. The crackle-hiss of the igniting blade made Atton jump for a moment.

 _Poor choice, unless he needs the illumination_ , Atton mused, shadowing the other man into the darkness. In the soft green light Atton spotted a _lot_ of plastoid armor. It seemed the marines had made a stand here… and every corpse had fallen where they stood, though with the heads twisted at impossible angles.

Over the oppressive hum of the lightsaber, Atton heard a different noise. The rogue leveled his blaster, looking for the source, and the Jedi froze as well, listening.

Sounded like… a fusion cutter. There was a sudden flare of blue-white light from deeper into the darkness, and then it shut off.

The Jedi advanced, flicking his hand. An access panel flew up into the air, hanging motionless.

The person revealed did not.

She erupted from the access area, fusion cutter clenched in one hand, the other hand back, as if ready to parry or strike.

"Choy," Atton whispered harshly, as he advanced behind the Jedi.

"Pilot," Choy said coolly, then glanced at the Jedi, her expression unreadable.

"My name is—" the Jedi began to say.

"Unimportant. Something is killing the crew. Something strong," Choy interrupted.

"Yes. I don't sense anything else alive on this ship," the Jedi confirmed.

Choy's eyes fluttered for a second.

"We need to get off, the hanger is that way," she said, pointing.

"Everything's disabled," Atton interrupted, "Besides, the Jedi has a ship."

"We should go, before it comes back," Choy said, glancing at the ruined pressure door, as she hurriedly slipped tools back into a carry case, and threw the carry strap across her shoulder.

"Agreed, my dear," the Jedi said, smiling.

((()))

"This is the last time," Kel said quietly, caressing Lashowe's sweat drenched bangs out of her eyes.

Lashowe was asleep, their daughter curled within her open tunic, little fingers curled against her mother's chest.

After this… they would find somewhere quiet. Build a life. Kel did not wish to be there when Jolee found his death.

As if on cue, Kel felt a sudden, inexorable _need_ , through the Force.

It was Jolee. Communications were probably still being jammed… the question, was which docking port?

Kel kissed his wife, and his daughter's tiny head. It was time to get to work…

((()))

Jolee watched Choy Verdan, as she led them through the damaged bowels of the ship. Without being able to probe her mind, he was left with only his perceptions of her. It was a novel sensation.

What the boy had told him of Verdan earlier was an understatement, if anything. She was aloof, almost to the point of hostility. Definitely to the point of rudeness.

 _But_ , she kept glancing back, checking on them. These were not like the predatory glances of the man behind Jolee. She was not checking to see if they were about to attack her, but rather, that they were still present; or so Jolee believed. It was strange to trust gut instinct, rather than being able to validate his conclusions through the Force.

The mechanic halted, raising a borrowed blaster.

"Stay where you are," she said coldly. Jolee squinted, and could barely perceive a heat shimmer, at the end of the lit corridor. Or it was just his eyes.

"Choy, can you _see them?_ " the man hissed behind Jolee.

"Yes. It's wearing a light weight EVA suit. Black, with red lenses. It has a vibroblade," Choy responded quietly.

Jolee _really_ didn't want to tangle with another assassin. The one he'd killed had been more luck than skill. He could see _flickers_ of movement, but he couldn't sense them directly.

"By all means, shoot, my dear," Jolee whispered. It might disrupt the assassin's technique, if nothing else.

A stun blast erupted from the blaster, the wide ring of energy nearly filling the corridor, surprising Jolee. _A stun blast?_

For a split second, a black figure was exposed, staggering back.

Jolee darted forward, drawing on strength and speed from the Force, quickening his perceptions. The helmeted head began to turn, to look at Jolee, as the wrong-footed assassin reached for his own power.

Jolee beat him to it, neatly bisecting his foe from crown to groin, just after the assassin vanished from view, before flickering back into sight again. Jolee wasn't taking chances. Jolee glanced back at the two Peragian personnel. Verdan's face was white, her lips pressed in a thin line, her knuckles white from how tightly she clenched the blaster.

Jolee didn't know what emotion was swirling in those blue eyes. It was powerful, whatever it was. The woman stalked past him, glancing at the two bloodless halves of the corpse, pausing only to pick up the vibro-blade, before moving on.

((()))

Kel felt a burst of irritation from Jolee. Wrong airlock. Alright then… the young man detached, and goosed his maneuvering thrusters, heading for the starboard lock.

((()))

"Hurry, I can't keep them closed much longer!" the Jedi shouted, sweat dripping from his brow, as he held his hands against the outer airlock doors. Someone on the bridge was trying to open them, and vent the deck into space.

Choy dug inside the command panel interface, finding the external protocol and subroutine buffer. She sliced it out with the fusion cutter, before activating the manual override, and cut power to the activator. She cut the command pathways too, just to be sure. This wasn't her area of expertise.

"These doors aren't going anywhere," Choy reported.

"Great. Then how do we get out when the ship docks?" Atton demanded.

"Lightsaber," Choy shrugged.

"Those doors are _durasteel_ …" Atton complained.

"It will take a few minutes to cut through. It's still better than breathing vacuum," Choy retorted, as she ran back to the access panel in the main corridor, and started tripping every emergency system she could. Pressure doors fell at intervals, locking down the corridor. She hadn't used any electronic commands to do it, so anyone in the bridge would have to override the safeguards to make the doors rise… something only someone with an actual interface hack could accomplish, or someone with the proper clearance to access the system. Either way, it would take time.

The deck shook slightly, as something mated with the airlock.

"Good boy," the Jedi whispered, igniting his lightsaber, shooing everyone to the sides, and started cutting into the door. A red tip also appeared, mirroring him from the other side of the door. The blades were _inching_ through the metal.

The deck shook.

"Feirfeik. Are the shields down?" Atton demanded.

Choy shrugged helplessly. No sensors.

"That felt like hull impact," Atton insisted. It happened again.

"Miss, need you to do something for me," the Jedi said, without looking away from his work.

"What?" Choy asked.

"Keep cutting, and I'll need to borrow that vibro-blade," the Jedi answered.

"Why?" Choy asked, dreading the answer.

"Because something is ripping its way through the pressure bulkheads, and this door won't be open in time," the Jedi answered. He pulled one of his hands off the hilt of his lightsaber, and gestured for Choy to take it. She hesitated for a moment, before another impact trembled through the ship. How many doors had she seen fall? Four, maybe five?

The mechanic sharply jerked her mind back to the present, handing the serrated vibro-blade to the Jedi as she roughly grabbed the hilt of the proffered lightsaber. She focused on cutting. It was just a big fusion cutter. A beam drill even. She fought to hold that image in her mind… because the sensation of thrumming power in her hands was so similar… so much like she remembered. She had forgotten what it felt like. Her arms wanted to idly swing and pivot the humming beam, to test its weight—

 _Stop it!_ Choy howled, focusing on her mechanist hands, the grime. Hands that held tools, not weapons. Hands that built, that created.

She was Choy Verdan.

It was not the name of her birth, but it's who she was _now_. That was all that mattered.

((()))

The shell of a man pushed through another obstruction. Shadows had spoken to him, revealed where his goal lay. The end of all things.

Only, it seemed the shadows had not been wholly correct.

She stood before him. He recognized her. He could still dimly see with his intact left eye. He saw her… but could not feel her.

The shell carried no mundane weapons. He used his power to collect debris, and launched it at the end of all things, as he could not harm it directly.

She raised a hand, and the shell felt the force _respond_.

The debris diverted harmlessly.

The shell shambled into a broken run. He would kill with his hands.

The end of all things must die. She was quick, and moved well, avoiding his attacks. A blade severed tendons with care, hampering the shell's movements, but never slowing him.

((()))

Choy glanced over her shoulder, from the sounds of… battle. Metal rang with incredibly forceful blows, and the scuffle of boots on deckplates… but no shouts, no ring of weapons, no blaster shots.

The Jedi scrabbled into view on all fours, having lost his cloak at some point, and the vibro-blade. An arm punched the deck, barely missing the Jedi. Choy felt the impact through the soles of her feet. In proper lighting… Choy wished she couldn't see the "man" that attacked the Jedi. It was a corpse, bloodless gashes and slashes ignored… and the arm that had just punched the deck with such force was clearly broken in several places… and still somehow functional.

Choy spotted the Jedi's missing vibro-blade, lodged in the corpse's spine, level with the pelvis… yet it was still walking.

 _Power blinded him long ago, and his senses betray him,_ the voice whispered, amused, in Choy's head.

 _What do you mean?_ Choy demanded, turning back to cutting the door. They were almost finished.

 _It was a simple thing to play with his perceptions. He believes the Jedi is_ _ **you**_ _,_ the voice answered.

The simple answer sent a chill through Choy.

 _Why does he hunt me?_ Choy asked, but the voice didn't answer. Perhaps from fatigue.

There was a tremble, which was Choy's only warning as the airlock door began to fall towards her.

"Back!" Choy said, pushing Atton with her, who'd been focused on the ongoing struggle ten meters away. A young man with a red lightsaber and loose black flight suit stared at her, nonplussed.

Then his eyes widened, as he saw what lay behind them.

"Jolee!" the man shouted.

"Kalixi!" the other Jedi snarled.

The young man with the red saber faltered for a second.

"Are you sure?" he called.

"Kalixi!" the unarmed Jedi howled, as he nearly lost his head to the corpse's reverse kick.

Without further hesitation the young man ushered Choy and Atton onboard, sealing the ship's inner airlock door, dashing off into the bowels of the ship. Choy followed close on his heels.

Choy heard his lightsaber deactivate, before she found him in the cockpit.

She didn't ask questions, simply strapped herself into one of the auxiliary chairs.

((()))

By the force he was getting too old for this. _Kalixi_ … oh he was insane… Jolee ducked another of the Force perversion's attacks, and felt the deck plates shudder as the locking arms retracted. And…

Air began to whistle, then roar as the Ebon Hawk backed away from the Harbinger. Atmosphere was venting through the open airlock, and all of the breached pressure bulkheads…

The corpse grabbed onto a stanchion, halting its attack in the sudden maelstrom. Jolee threw himself forward, exhaling as he ran for the empty void framed by the damaged airlock. He could see the Ebon Hawk thirty meters away. Jolee felt his lungs trying to unfold out through his nostrils as he hit vacuum, and his eyes began to flash freeze. He kicked off as he passed the airlock, aiming squarely for the Ebon hawk's open outer airlock doors. He glided through the empty void… something almost peaceful, except for the splitting headache, and his ringing ears, and—

Jolee ignored his body's many complaints about vacuum exposure, as he thudded against the inside of the Ebon Hawk's airlock and the grav plating asserted its will on him again. He hit the control panel to begin the pressurization sequence. As the doors closed, Jolee locked gazes with his opponent, who was now standing in the open airlock of the Harbinger. Apparently the deck had finished venting, because the corpse had no trouble standing there… watching him. Then it turned, and walked deeper into the cruiser.

The outer doors sealed with a silent thud, heard through the soles of one's feet… before sweet atmosphere began to pump into the chamber. Jolee waited another thirty seconds before he inhaled. _Then_ he collapsed.


	5. Chapter 5

Kel flinched in the pilot's station as a turbolaser flashed past the Ebon Hawk's viewport, blindingly bright. Someone had closed the outer airlock doors of the Ebon Hawk, but Kel didn't know if it was Jolee… he couldn't sense anyone in the airlock.

It didn't matter though.

"Get us out of here!" a man in a ragged jacket demanded, clutching the back of Kel's seat.

"I can't. The Harbinger's shields are up," Kel growled.

A woman that Kel couldn't sense quickly sat in the co-pilot's seat, buckling herself in place.

"The shield generators on El-five hammer-head cruisers were kept here, at the midship line, and most ship designs are pretty conservative," the woman said, playing with the co-pilot's station, flagging a target on the Ebon Hawk's sensor data of the Harbinger.

"Are you sure? That looks pretty exposed," Kel said doubtfully, dropping the nose of the Ebon Hawk and edging back into the cruiser's shadow, where the turbolasers couldn't _quite_ reach them.

"It let them tie the generators almost directly into the ship engines," the woman replied.

Enemy fire raked the ship's shields, throwing Atton down on one knee. Laser cannons, not turbolasers, the rogue recognized.

The pilot didn't seem too concerned about the lasers, and Atton peeked at the ship displays. He found the shield indicator and blinked. The ship was still at roughly ninety percent integrity.

The ship jumped again. Red turbolasers slammed into the unshielded Harbinger's hull, ejecting globules of molten armor plating and flotsam from explosive decompression.

"Shields are fluctuating, but are still up," Choy reported, studying the co-pilot's readouts.

"Hit it again?" Rand suggested, trying to look deeper into the new hole on the cruiser.

"Don't. We might hit the power core now," Choy said hastily.

"Agreed," the Jedi pilot sighed, frowning thoughtfully.

Destabilizing the cruiser's power core _at this range_ would be a fatal.

There was a secondary explosion which threw more junk out of the hole in the side of the cruiser.

"Shields are down," Choy reported coolly.

"Now get us out of here!" Atton barked.

"With pleasure," the Jedi pilot said, distracted.

"Choy, switch with me," Atton said, "I'll working on jump calculations."

The mechanic unbuckled, slithering into one of the auxiliary chairs without question as Atton took her place. She'd probably already thought this through to its conclusion.

The ship rocked violently, this time from a turbolaser impact, as they accelerated away in the Harbinger's engine wake. Shields had dropped to half power.

"I have calculations, but we can't jump until we clear the field," Atton reported.

Another turbolaser hit glanced the ship's aft shields, throwing Atton against his harness.

Normally a freighter this size should have been able to outrun a cruiser, but neither ship could reach top speed while dodging asteroids… so acceleration was limited.

"The Harbinger… it's accelerating," Choy said, horrified.

"Are they insane?!" Atton demanded, glaring at the readings. That ship didn't have _shields_.

One of the rear cameras showed a small asteroid fragment shear off part of the top of the cruiser's hammer… which also removed one of the heavy turbolasers.

"I have secondary detonations," Choy said, her eyes meeting Atton's for a moment. She was terrified.

Atton looked back at the screen. Some of the smaller asteroids ahead of them had exploded, the peragian fuel deposits ignited by several of the Harbinger's "misses."

"Maybe it'll stay small," Atton breathed.

A spinning, burning chunk of rock the size of a ministry-class shuttle hit the surface of another asteroid, this one roughly a kilometer in diameter.

For five seconds, nothing happened, then the surface of the asteroid rippled, moments before an inferno erupted.

"Evade!" Atton screamed.

The Jedi was already throwing the ship into a port-side turn, hard enough to overwhelm the inertial compensators, choking everyone against their restraints. The high-G maneuver seemed to last minutes (in reality only four or five seconds). Then just as everyone sagged against their now limp restraints, the incoming shockwave kicked them in the ass.

"Can't see them, can't see them," the Jedi whispered, stressed, as he wove his way back towards the Harbinger. Another small asteroid exploded directly in their path, and the Jedi flinched in surprise.

The Jedi slashed the ship past the Harbinger, high on her port side, juking past the remaining turbolasers on the cruiser's head, but enduring the gauntlet of lighter laser cannons that lined its flanks, intended to deter fighter craft from strafing runs.

"Shields have almost failed. I'm diverting power from ray to particle shielding," Choy reported. _Good call. We can't take another laser blast, but we're more likely to hit something solid out here at these speeds_ , Atton concluded. He glanced at the line of explosions behind them. They were just ahead of the chain reaction. The Harbinger tried to maneuver, to turn about and resume the chase. It had taken serious damage though from its headlong pursuit. Atton lost sight of it as the line of explosions swept over the vessel.

Atton glanced at the sensors. They were slowly losing ground. They couldn't jump until they cleared the field… and the Jedi was a mediocre pilot, forced to take long detours around certain patches of the more chaotic asteroids.

"Jedi, give me flight control," Atton said sharply.

"No," the Jedi replied, flinching and throwing the ship around a rock that had tumbled across their path.

"I'm a pilot, I _know_ this field," Atton argued.

"I… can't," the Jedi admitted.

"Look. _I_ don't need to see. _I know_ ," Atton said, fumbling for anything he could to wrest control.

The Jedi stared straight ahead for several seconds. Then he hit a button on the console.

"Transferring control," the Jedi whispered.

Atton's hand tightened on his suddenly responsive flight stick, and his panels shifted their displays.

"What's she called?" Atton demanded. There was a 20 km asteroid coming up, which he recognized as asteroid Sigma-42 by its disc shaped profile (since this ship didn't have the drift charts).

It had a thirty meter wide corridor that ran through its axis.

"Who?" the Jedi asked.

"The ship, what's her name?" Atton snarled.

"Ebon Hawk," the Jedi answered.

The Hawk was a responsive girl, Atton allowed, but he didn't know if she was a lady… or a bitch.

Atton continued to pour on speed and the ship eagerly leapt to the task.

"What are you—!" the Jedi yelped, hand hovering over the button to resume normal flight operations.

"Trust me," Atton hissed. It looked like they were going to crash at the bottom of a crater… only for it to be revealed as a sharply canted tunnel mouth at the last moment.

Sensors read no obstructions at the end of the 3 km drilled tunnel, so Atton continued to throttle up.

After this… Atton checked his mental drift map… at roughly this time… Pi-23 and Pi-24 should be right about… there.

The Hawk flashed out of the tunnel mouth, and between two tumbling twin asteroids, with easily twenty meters of clearance.

"Choy, how we doing?" Atton asked, not daring to tear his eyes away from his flying.

"The wave is still overtaking us," Choy answered flatly.

"Glad to hear it," Atton answered automatically, picking an almost straight path out of the field, at reckless speed.

"Be ready to jump the second we clear the field," Atton told the Jedi.

The Jedi nodded grimly.

The shields were struggling to keep up with diverting the miniscule flotsam and debris of the asteroid field, especially at their current speed.

"Choy, can you divert power from the guns to shields?" Atton asked.

"I already did. It's why they haven't failed yet," Choy replied tightly.

A red light started blinking urgently in Atton's peripheral. It looked important.

"Time to shock wave impact?" Atton asked.

"Twelve seconds," The Jedi answered.

They had almost reached the edge of the field. Atton opened the Ebon Hawk's throttle all the way.

"Divert all power to forward particle shields," Atton snarled.

The Jedi hastily obeyed, then placed his hand on the hyperdrive levers, staring at his display, as it counted down.

Atton didn't dodge a couple of the fighter-sized asteroids. There wasn't time. They glanced off the particle shields.

The red light stopped blinking, remaining lit.

"Shields have failed," Choy said remotely.

Then the star field stretched into infinity, and hyperspace swallowed them whole.

((()))

"Well, that was fun, now, _who are you people?_ " Atton demanded, turning to face the young Jedi. The young man stared at Atton, "I don't think you need to know," he decided.

"Look, Jedi, someone just killed _a planet_. I'd like to know _why,_ " Atton snarled.

"It's not your concern," the Jedi answered.

"I take almost dying _very_ personally. I'm _making_ it my concern," Atton yelled.

"Choy, back me up here," Atton said, glancing over his shoulder, but the cockpit was empty.

"I need to check on Jolee," the Jedi said, edging past Atton.

"I'm not finished with you," Atton growled. He could hear a utility droid's chirps and beeps cascading aggravatingly somewhere close by.

"And someone shut off that damned—" Atton broke off, staring, as he barged into what he guessed was the main hold. Choy was on her knees, one arm thrown around a utility droid, the other patting the head of a peragus mark one droid.

She was shaking, but her back was to Atton.

Then she stood up, discretely wiping her face with her sleeve, casually, before turning towards Atton, and the Jedi next to him.

"You saved my droids," she told the young Jedi, eyes locked on his chin. Her voice was flat, but Atton could almost hear the welds on her emotions creaking.

"Actually, our utility droid—" the Jedi started to say, but Choy cut him off with her hand, "Yes, Three-see told me. You brought them along though. You could have just abandoned them in the hanger. So… thank you," the mechanic said softly.

"I… I need to check on Jolee," the Jedi said awkwardly.

Choy nodded, staring at _her_ utility droid.

It was… unnerving. Atton hadn't seen her shed a tear for a single one of their coworkers on Peragus, but two droids were enough? It didn't add up.

"Choy… are you—" Atton started.

"This ship took damage. I'm going to start checking systems," Choy interrupted, moving off deeper into the ship, trailing her retinue.

"Fine," Atton muttered, irritated by the brush-off.

((()))

 _Well… not dead._

The splitting headache was a clue.

Jolee reluctantly sat up, recognizing his bunk on the Ebon Hawk by touch and scent. His migraine firmly vetoed any ideas involving cracking open an eyelid or two.

Not even the medbay. The young'ns had just tossed old Jolee in his damned bunk, to sleep off vacuum exposure.

Heh. That was gratitude for you.

Jolee cautiously pivoted, letting his feet touch the deck. The cold metal told him that Kel had been kind enough to at least pull off Jolee's boots before putting him to bed.

The steady thrum also told him they were in hyperspace.

Sighing, the old Jedi stood and inched his way along the wall, suspicious of any objects lurking to ambush his vulnerable toes. Knowing Lashowe there was _guaranteed_ to be at least _something_ sharp lying on the floor near him… broken glass, caltrops… anti-personnel mines… _something_.

Jolee made it to the main hold without any injuries. He could hear voices, and metallic noises that said _tools_ , to him, from deeper in the ship. Jolee found the voices first.

"You're getting slow, old man," Lashowe hissed tiredly. Jolee frowned, brushing the edges of the young woman's mind. She was injured.

"What happened to you?" Jolee asked.

"Assassin. I killed him," Kel answered tersely.

"Where's the body?" Jolee asked.

"Starboard cargo bay," Kel answered.

Kel had either been extremely lucky (and yes, luck did exist, despite what the Jedi Masters _claimed_ ), or… highly motivated. Or both.

"Where's the woman?" Jolee asked.

"The mechanic?" Kel asked.

"Yes," Jolee said slowly.

"Follow your ears," Lashowe answered.

"A pleasure, as always, Lashowe," Jolee said brightly, and could hear Lashowe's teeth grinding as he left. He didn't needle the woman more, he had an enigma to find.

((()))

"So, will she fly?" a voice asked. Choy stopped her diagnostic of the power distribution system. There was a fault _somewhere_ , but none of the sensors were triggering… which meant a faulty sensor as well.

"She's already flying," Choy pointed out, without bothering to crawl from among the cables that filled the cramped conduit space. She liked the closeness.

"I'll give you that," the voice chuckled. Choy looked down, to where her bare feet were sticking out a little into the corridor. _Another_ pair of bare feet stood next to hers. The rich brown of the skin hinted at the Jedi whose lightsaber she had held.

He wasn't moving.

Choy could play that game. She _lived_ it. The mechanic went back to isolating the sensors, and deliberately overloading them (safely), to see if they triggered. So far, they all had, so she kept looking for the faulty sensor. Once she found it, she'd be able to begin repairs, and restore the particle shields. The ray shields would take longer, she needed to replace the burnt out relays.

After about ten minutes, the Jedi coughed politely, "Sounds like you're busy, and I hate interrupting busy, but I've got some questions for you."

"No," Choy answered.

"Hmm. Well, that's a problem, because I _need_ some answers. I think you have them," the Jedi pondered.

"I don't have anything you need. Ask the pilot," Choy snapped. A sensor stayed green.

 _Found it_ , Choy smiled tightly. The failure was in the starboard aft quarter. Excellent.

"Alright. Let me phrase things differently. _What are you?_ " the Jedi asked, this time there wasn't anything friendly about his voice.

"I'm a mechanic. I fix things," Choy shot back.

"Not good enough," the Jedi replied calmly.

"It will have to be. You have no authority over me, Peragus was independent of the Republic," Choy pointed out.

Jolee frowned. The woman wasn't stupid, and she wasn't responding to _pointed persuasion_. Perhaps a proper threat was required?

"That may be true… unless you were responsible in some way for the deaths of the Harbinger's crew…" the Jolee trailed off meaningfully, "In which case your possessions would likely be seized for analysis, and you'd be held for questioning—"

Jolee heard the clatter of falling tools and the woman thrashed her way out of the access hatch. She was holding a hydrospanner in a way that suggested to Jolee that she understood it's more violent applications, and was seriously considering experimenting with them on Jolee.

"Don't. Touch. My. Droids," she said thickly, voice trembling with rage.

And fear.

Jolee stared her down, but she didn't look away, didn't blink.

Jolee felt like his soul was being watered down, and drained into those eyes, a little at a time. Which was ridiculous.

"My dear… we need to talk," Jolee said sternly.

At the word _talk_ , the woman blinked, and quickly looked away.

"No. Talking never helps," she muttered, contemplating the tool in her hand.

"Oh I disagree. Never is a big word. Talking _sometimes_ helps," Jolee said, grinning.

The woman was in control again though.

"You can't seize my droids. The _Republic_ can _detain_ us, but Peragus was granted exclusion from the Republic charter. The Republic can request I be turned over to them, but cannot _demand_ anything from Peragus," the woman said calmly.

"That's probably true… but is there anything _left_ of Peragus? That agreement was built on leverage. Peragus had fuel, lots of it, albeit crude and very dangerous. The Republic _needs_ fuel… but without fuel, what does Peragus have?" Jolee asked.

"I'm not hurting anyone," the woman whispered.

Jolee felt a pang of sympathy, but little else. For all he knew, this was an act. He couldn't be sure.

"I'm sure you're not, miss, but _someone_ is. _Something_ attacked us on the Harbinger. Something I've never fought before. I find it curious that such a creature would be drawn to a place like Peragus. A place _you_ happen to be," Jolee said calmly.

"I… I need to fix the shields," the woman said, troubled. She whistled, and one of the utility droids from Peragus trundled up, and beeped at her inquisitively.

Jolee shook his head and went looking for his boots. And his lightsaber.

((()))

Choy stood in the sonic shower, her eyes closed as she let the grime of Peragus slough away; the dried kolto, the blood, grease… all of it.

The mechanic stepped from the tiny stall, and grabbed a pile of clothing, from a different crewmember… which meant she didn't have to wear a dead man's clothes. Boots had been included as well, though they pinched slightly.

3C-FD blatted at her, as she walked from the ship's refresher, and bumped its coin shaped head gently against her knee.

 _[Do you feel better?]_

"Yes Three-see. I do," Choy smiled patting the droid's flat head. She'd never programmed that mannerism into the droid. It had picked it up on its own.

"Why didn't you name them?" Atton asked, startling Choy. She spun, spotting him sitting in a corner of the main hold, studying a datapad.

"They already had names," Choy responded, moving towards the aft of the main hold, to the corridor that led to the starboard cargo bay.

"Real names, not designations," Atton needled.

Choy paused, glaring at the pilot, who smirked at her, tabbing down to the next page on his pad.

"To them, it is a real name. I'll not impose another on them for vanity," Choy hissed.

"Oh… so if one of them gets a wire crossed, and decides they're king of the droids, you'll go along with it?" Atton challenged.

Choy raised an eyebrow, "How do you know they aren't?"

Atton blinked, and Choy disappeared down the corridor. Her utility droid made a trilling noise at him as it followed her, its photoreceptor pointed at him.

Atton scowled, the little trash compacter was _laughing_ at him.

((()))

Choy sat at the tiny work bench, studying the surgical assistant droid she'd rescued from the Harbinger. She'd already used a mild solvent to gently scrub the blood off the poor droid's casing. Opening its internal housing took longer, as she wasn't used to working on such a small droid.

 _[What are you doing?]_

Choy looked over, as the Jedi's utility droid rolled up to her, jockeying for position with 3C-FD, and FS-907. They didn't want to break ranks, but let the outsider move _a little_ closer to their mistress.

"What's your name?" Choy asked the utility droid, studying its light gray panels. There seemed to be more panels than there should have been. Concealed weapons perhaps?

 _[My designation is T3-M4]_

"Thank you for rescuing my droids, Tee-three," Choy said, smiling at T3.

 _[I needed them to escape impound. They responded to my signal.]_ T3 answered.

"Yes, but you could have left them behind afterwards," Choy pointed out.

 _[I did. They followed me.]_ the droid answered.

Choy studied the interior of the medical droid. She spotted several singed components, as well as loose circuits.

 _[Do you require medical attention?]_ T3 asked.

"No," Choy replied.

 _[Then why are you attempting to repair that unit?]_

"Because it's broken. If I can fix it, I will," Choy answered.

 _[That statement is not feasible. You cannot fix everything you encounter]_ T3 argued.

"That isn't the point. I don't have to fix everything, just everything I can."

Choy removed a ruined motivator, studying it, before placing it to the side. She'd need to find something equivalent…

 _[You are strange, human]_.

Choy smiled, as the utility droid trundled away.

((()))

"Respectfully sir, stop fussing, you're making it worse…" Sergeant Jordo sighed, trying to straighten Carth's dress uniform.

"The medals are pulling the damn thing down," Admiral Onasi complained.

The Sojourn had arrived seven hours ahead of Carth's intended schedule, so he wasn't _too_ concerned. He still had twelve hours until the wedding.

"Then don't wear the medals," Jordo replied.

"I have to. I'm in dress uniform, its regulation," Carth grumbled.

"Then wear something else," Jordo suggested.

Carth looked at his aide suspiciously.

"Like what?" Carth asked.

The corner of Jordo's mouth quirked slightly, and the whipcord thin man retreated from the back half of Carth's ship cabin, disappearing into the foyer section, reserved for "meetings."

The former sith commando returned a moment later and tossed a formless package, wrapped in flimsi, onto Carth's bunk.

"I think this might fit, sir," Jordo said calmly.

Carth tore the papery material, pulling out the contents.

Black, shimmery cloth billowed across his fingers.

Carth held it out. He was holding a black high collared tunic, cut in a military style, but without affiliation of any kind. The pants were black, and of similar material to the tunic. Scarlet strips ran down the outer pant leg seam.

Carth studied the outfit for several seconds, thinking. He looked up at Jordo.

"When did you have this made?" Carth asked.

"Two months ago," Jordo answered promptly.

Carth did some quick math.

"So… about seventeen days after Dustil sent me the invitation," Carth said pointedly.

"Yes sir," Jordo agreed.

"Before I agreed to go," Carth continued.

"Again correct, sir," Jordo said.

"And what if I _hadn't_ decided to come?" Carth asked.

Jordo cocked his head quizzically, "Sorry sir?"

"Don't give me that, Jordo. This fabric feels expensive, and last time I checked, you didn't have access to the fleet budget," Carth said coldly.

Jordo nodded, "An anonymous benefactor footed the bill, sir."

Carth stared at Jordo. Finally, he gave up. Carth had learned to pick his battles.

"And if I'd tried wearing the dress uniform?" Carth asked, contemplatively rubbing his thumb against the fabric.

"Accidents happen, sir. White stains _so easily_ ," Jordo said sadly, glancing at the dress uniform in question.

((()))

"Good luck, sir," Captain Dross said, smiling slightly at Carth.

"Try not to wreck anything while I'm gone," Carth chuckled.

"I can't promise anything, sir. There _are_ pirates in the system," the Duros man replied.

"I know. It's Corellia," Carth sighed, shaking his head as he left the bridge.

Jordo was waiting for him in the corridor. Carth nervously readjusted his gun belt (with the buckles polished), double checking that his blaster was properly seated.

"It's a wedding, not an execution," Jordo grinned. Carth stayed quiet.

As they rode the turbolift Jordo glanced over at Carth again, "Relax. It'll be fine. You'll see," the commando assured him.

Jordo was probably one of the few people Carth still considered a _friend_. Not a comrade, but an actual friend. The man had saved his son. Which was strange, to consider that he'd also been a traitor to the republic at the time… and unshakably loyal to his commanding officer.

"I don't want to ruin it," Carth whispered.

Jordo frowned, staring at Carth.

"Dustil _wants_ you there," Jordo answered.

"Does he? He's nineteen. He has his own friends, his own life now, hell, he's going to have a _wife_ ," Carth said, unconvinced. Before Jordo could argue more, the doors to the lift opened startling a pair of ensigns.

"Admiral!" the ensign on the left blurted, hand raising to salute.

"Don't salute," Carth said quickly… which made his voice sound a tad sharp.

"Oh. Uh, yes sir," the ensign said.

"Temporary leave," Carth said, tapping his _non_ -uniform clothing.

"I hope you enjoy your day," the shorter ensign said meaningfully, elbowing his fellow, and pushing him into the turbolift. The ensigns made their escape, and Carth started chuckling.

That smile died when he entered the hanger. Five republic marines were waiting next to their shuttle.

"Jordo… why is there an escort?" Carth asked.

"To guard the shuttle. It's republic property, and this _is_ Corellia," Jordo answered smoothly.

Carth grinned, realizing what Jordo had planned, "There's no pilot, is there?"

Jordo smiled back, "No. Think we can find one?"

Carth cracked the knuckles on his right hand, "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

((()))

Carth's first impression of the wedding hall was warmth. Not physical warmth, but natural light. An aspiring artist had created murals of colored glass, and some sort of tractor beam emitter network to keep them suspended. Sunlight was filtering through massive windows on the western side of the chamber, which apparently had running water sandwiched between two layers of glass. This rippling light was caught, diverted, and thrown around the sweeping, arched chamber by the ever changing clusters of hovering colored glass. It felt like standing in a coral reef.

Then Carth looked down from the ceiling and walls.

The wedding was in chaos. At the center of that chaos, Carth found its orchestrator.

"Mission?" Carth called, surprised.

Mission Vao looked away from her screaming match with an enraged aqualish caterer, and the datapad she'd been waving under his chin.

"Carth!" the teenage twi'lek smiled, her face lighting up. He'd last talked to her… three months ago? On her birthday? Mission was a hard one to keep in touch with.

"And you're wearing my suit!"

 _Her suit?_

Ah. Carth glanced at Jordo's carefully guileless expression.

The caterer tried to back away, but Mission rounded on him in a second, her _lekku_ whipping angrily, "Not so fast. I paid you for _ten_ cases of Corellian Whisky. I see ten _bottles_."

 _[There was a shortage. I compensated you with equivalent amounts of Steryn Brandy]_ the alien protested.

"Yeah, and it's worth only a _half_ of what I paid for the whisky!" Mission snarled.

 _[It took money to acquire the brandy on such short notice. The price is identical]_

"Zaalbar!" Mission called, "Start ripping off limbs till money starts falling out!"

Carth looked around, eventually spotting the burly wookiee's head and shoulders emerge from behind the stage, where the groom and bride would say their vows. He had stains and scorch marks in his pelt. Apparently, he was hooking something up.

Zaalbar roared a complaint at Mission, which Carth didn't understand, and the wookiee disappeared back below the stage.

"Useless hairball!" Mission screamed at Zaalbar, blindly grabbing the fleeing aqualish's jacket, and tripping him to the ground.

Carth hid a smirk. Mission was loving this.

((()))

"You came," Dustil said neutrally.

The young man had filled out nicely since Carth had last seen him, nearly a year ago. Dustil was no longer awkward with his sudden height, and his body had caught up, losing its wiry aspect and looking _balanced_ again. It hurt to see him, because Carth saw himself in his son, the cautious set of his chin, and how he stood… but he had his mother's eyes.

Carth nodded formally to his son, "I promised to try."

Dustil grimaced slightly, "That usually meant you wouldn't be coming."

Carth chuckled, "Back when I was a _lieutenant…_ but I'm an admiral now, remember?"

Dustil smiled awkwardly, but he still looked nervous, not quite sure how to interact with his father. His departure from Carth's home had been… heated, last year. Words had been exchanged. Words both parties probably regretted.

Carth sighed, holding his arms open, "Come on."

Dustil scowled, but there wasn't any heat in it, and reluctantly closed the distance, embracing his father. There were some awkward pats on the back by Dustil, before the young man realized his father was genuinely hugging him. Then they parted.

"Thanks for coming, dad," Dustil said, not looking Carth in the eye.

Carth smiled, "Let's see if Mission needs any help."

((()))

"Okay, _why_ was this place gutted?" Carth asked, staring at Mission. The teenager shrugged, "A proton bomb missed its target, obviously."

"Oh, and I forgot," Mission said brightly. Carth frowned, turning to look at the almost adult, just in time to get tackled.

Mission hugged the man tightly, "Sorry, I was busy earlier," Mission apologized, smiling brightly. Carth laughed, and returned the hug, "I'll let it slide this time," Carth answered sternly, although the smirk tugging at a corner of his mouth gave the game away.

"So, who's been restoring this temple?" Carth asked, releasing his adopted niece/daughter.

"Community project. We've just been helping out, and Dustil asked if he could use it for the wedding," Mission shrugged.

((()))

The man presiding over the wedding lifted the silver bowl ceremonially, chanting in an alien tongue. Carth didn't know it, glancing over at Jordo, who shook his head.

Carth still wasn't quite sure which wedding customs his son and Selene were using for the marriage. Blood of the two partners was mixed in the bowl, then drunk by each.

Dustil beamed, as the assembled crowd cheered, and Selene looked like she was trying to figure out how to disappear into Dustil's shadow. The willowy woman was shorter than his son now, but still seemed to preside over the whole affair. Carth stared at his new daughter in law. She caught his eye by accident, and Carth nodded, letting a smile break across his face, regardless of his feelings.

Selene hesitantly smiled back.

Then the chairs were hauled away from the center, creating a massive open area. With more shouting, and heavy labor, Mission brought in tables and food.

It was time to celebrate.

((()))

Carth stared into the glass of Corellian whisky, absently letting the contents roll around the bottom.

" _Su cuy'gar, Carth_ ," a voice said, startling Carth from his musings. He looked up, as a big man sat down in the folding chair next to him, balancing a plate of food in one hand, and a large mug of alcohol in the other.

Carth scowled, "Canderous."

The mandalorian grinned, seeming smaller without his formidable armor, or his heavy repeating blaster.

Carth glanced around the festivities, spotting Jordo, who was watching them from across the room. Canderous Ordo, leader of Clan Ordo, had probably not come alone, or for social reasons. The admiral spotted other hard looking men and women scattered through the crowd, notable by their _lack_ of frivolity. They too wore plain clothes, but their body language was that of someone accustomed to wearing heavy armor. They held the confidence (or arrogance) of men and women who could shrug of a blaster bolt with little more than irritation.

"So, to what do I owe this honor?" Carth asked sarcastically.

Canderous balanced his plate in his lap, and took his time to take a bite of something breaded and probably fried.

"Mission invited me," Canderous answered.

"She didn't say anything about it," Carth accused, studying his old _comrade_.

The man's rugged, square features hadn't changed much, he was in has late sixties, or early seventies by now. There were a few more scars, and the gray was starting to edge closer to silver… but he still exuded physical presence and contained menace.

Ordo shrugged as he swallowed, looking at the confection in his hand with renewed scrutiny,

"I wasn't going to come. Too busy," the mandalorian replied bluntly.

"What do you want?" Carth asked, disgruntled.

"Nothing," Ordo answered gruffly.

"You're here for the food?" Carth asked skeptically.

" _Mav_ _ori'skraan_ is never something to turn down lightly," Canderous chuckled.

Carth stared at Canderous flatly, as the man finished his meal in silence.

Canderous carefully placed his plate under his chair.

"Things on Onderon are coming to a head. There will be war soon," Canderous said, as he stood, looking down at Carth.

"I thought you liked war," Carth sneered.

"I do. But this will be a stupid war, little _aruetiise_ squealing for scraps. No glory. No honor," Canderous said, with thinning patience.

"Then don't fight them," Carth growled.

Canderous blinked, as if they'd been having a different conversation.

"My clan will not fight such _di'kut_. A mutual friend of ours insisted I warn you of the danger," Ordo growled, strangely intent.

There was probably only one man who could persuade Clan Ordo to do _anything_.

" _Revan,"_ Carth hissed.

Canderous nodded gravely. There was a deep, unshakable loyalty in Canderous's flinty eyes.

The question was, did Carth still trust Revan? A man that had almost destroyed before ultimately rescuing the Republic? A man Carth once counted as a friend, before his true nature was revealed?

Message delivered, Canderous Ordo shouldered his way through the crowd, and his warriors followed. A path opened before them, like shoals of fish avoiding well-fed predators.

Jordo approached at a run, and Carth waved him off, "It's fine, they were just leaving."

Jordo thrust a comlink out to Carth, "It's from the Sojurn. Something happened at Peragus," the aide interrupted.

Carth felt the blood run from his face.


	6. Chapter 6

Choy stood in darkness. Beyond her lay a sea of guttering candles, and on the breathless air she heard whispers.

Something stirred within the woman. Something withered and battered. It opened sightless eyes, feeling the warmth of sunlight.

Choy wept.

 _Why do you cry, little one?_

The woman looked over, to see another stood with her. The hooded form seemed bent with fatigue and endless years of toil.

"You know why," Choy replied.

Her escort nodded slowly.

 _The endless song._

"It… it does not feel as it did before," Choy whispered, her hand trembling as she held it out, but she could not touch the candles.

 _You could turn away from it,_ the shade suggested.

"No. I lost it once. I will not lose it again," Choy answered desperately.

 _If you choose this path… there will be pain. You risk loss as great as before,_ the shade warned.

Choy felt terror grip her heart, threatening to extinguish her. She didn't think she'd survive losing everything _again_.

The shade shuffled silently in front of Choy, studying her from beneath its impenetrable hood for a time. It plucked a candle from among the sea, gently cupped in one gnarled hand. The meager light could not pierce the hood's shroud.

 _Choose,_ the shade said softly, though with the steel of finality.

Choy studied the single, flickering light. It struggled and leapt upon the wick, growing fainter with each kick and lick.

It would fade soon, vanish.

Choy lunged forward, cupping the candle in her own hands protectively.

At her touch, the candle flared, illuminating the shade.

Choy looked up into the face of an old woman. Her mouth was pinched, as if from permanent disappointment, her eyes milky white. Her skin was wrinkled with age and hardship… but beneath it all was a core of stubborn pride. She was unbeaten, even in undeath.

 _We will speak more of this later. Now… it is time to wake_ , the dead woman said, smiling slightly, as Choy cupped the shade's essence in her hands.

((()))

Jolee let the Ebon Hawk slide back into reality, his stomach flickering from the pseudo motion. He glanced over at Kel and nodded tensely. The young man unbuckled, so that he could watch the closed hatch.

Telos turned below them, its surface a poisonous yellow. That was just the particulates in the atmosphere, and not the surface itself. A great silver flash caught the sunlight, marking the orbiting Citadel Station. It was massive, easily dwarfing any "conventional" space station, created from interlocked modules, repurposed freighters, and orbital depots. Anything that could be requisitioned, really.

The ex-hermit signaled the station, and was directed to a docking berth.

Jolee cut in the maneuvering thrusters, gliding to a halt within the designated hanger bay. He could see the Telos Security Forces squad trotting into the hanger bay, their muted gray and tan plastoid armor was repainted military surplus from the Republic (even if it was twenty years out of date). Good, it looked like Carth had sent word ahead, and was taking him seriously this time.

Jolee shut down the Ebon Hawk's systems then locked down the controls and interfaces, just in case.

"Kel, keep an eye on our passengers," Jolee told his apprentice quietly, as they walked out of the cockpit. The shifty-eyed man was sitting in the main hold, apparently reading a holozine, but Jolee could feel the man's knife-edge awareness that kept sweeping over everything in the hold.

Jolee lowered the ramp. Six armored humanoids entered, their rifles pointed at the deck.

The pilot's presence in the force became thinner, and the edges grew muddy and indistinct. Jolee couldn't reliably tell if the man was genuinely upset, or just thinking himself upset.

"Lieutenant Grenn has given me orders to detain all occupants until an investigation is conducted," One of the faceless TSF officers stated. The old helmet speaker garbled the gender, but Jolee knew the officer was female.

"I'm a citizen of Peragus, I demand to know under what authority the Republic is holding us without repatriation?" the pilot said, slowly standing up, setting the datapad on the seat beside him, hands clearly away from his body.

The officer turned to address the pilot, "You are being held in protective custody until representatives of Peragus can arrive."

The pilot glanced at Jolee, then at the TSF officer. There was a moment of cold calculation behind his brown eyes, before the man smiled disarmingly, letting his posture relax into something submissive.

"What about my droids?" Choy Verdan asked, emerging from the aft corridor, wiping black grease off her hands with a machine rag.

The officer turned to address Verdan, reluctantly turning her back on the rogue, but she had three men still facing the pilot.

"They will be detained, but no examinations will be conducted until the Peragus representatives arrive," the officer answered.

((()))

Carth stood on one side of the mirrored transparisteel. Jolee stood next to him, and was staring into the interrogation room intently. He wasn't even _blinking_.

It was a marked change from the laid-back Jedi Carth remembered from the Jedi Civil War.

"These are the best investigators in the fleet?" Jolee asked tersely.

"Yes, Jolee. Twenty years of experience, I pulled them from Naval Intelligence, which didn't make me any friends," Carth answered pointedly, staring at his old comrade.

"Good, good," Jolee muttered, distracted.

One of the intelligence officers was seated near them, studying data readouts from the array of sensors inside the interrogation room.

"Go back. She just lied," the officer whispered, his words relayed to his counterpart in the next room via a nearly invisible combead in his ear.

"Lied? About what?" Jolee demanded, darting to look over the spook's shoulder.

The intelligence officer scowled at Jolee, clearly hating the interruption in his concentration.

"Jolee, let him do his job," Carth said sharply. Jolee stared at the intelligence officer, brow furrowed.

 _He's probing my man's mind,_ Carth realized, a shiver of revulsion running down his spine.

Jolee pressed a volume control on the blinking spook's console.

"—born Choy Verdan?" the interrogator asked.

Carth stared through the glass at the woman. She was facing him. Her eyes looked tired, and her skin seemed pale from illness or stress. Her short cropped hair, paired with the rough coveralls she wore gave the woman an air of weary dependability. Carth wanted to trust her, so he instinctively didn't.

She stared at the interrogator for several seconds, " _I am_ Choy Verdan," she said slowly and carefully.

Carth glanced at the analyst.

After several seconds the man's mouth screwed into a moue of irritation.

"She's either telling the truth, or thinks it's the truth," the analyst hissed.

"Ask her if she's always been Choy Verdan," Jolee hissed.

Reluctantly the analyst relayed the request.

At the question the woman blinked.

"Yes," she lied. Carth didn't need the sensors to tell him that.

Jolee grinned, and leaned forward. Carth sharply grabbed Jolee's shoulder,

"Major Ferol, pretend we don't know she lied," Carth commanded.

Jolee began to protest, but Carth rounded on the Jedi, "You are out of order. This is _my_ investigation. You are an observer _only_."

Jolee scowled, but closed his mouth.

"You wanted experts. I brought experts. _Now let them do their job_ ," Admiral Onasi said.

((()))

The woman wore very little, which did little to hide the strong pink, almost red, tinge to her skin. She was a Zeltron, and proud of that fact. The swirl of emotion around her pulsed and ebbed in time to the fortunes of the nearby gamblers. She sipped at her Altarian Brandy, her seventh glass, despite the potency. She had two livers, and only the tips of her fingers were buzzing. She could feel the spikes of lust, each time a male glanced over at where she sat, in her most provocative pose… until her comlink chirped. She sighed, and pulled the device from her almost ethereal belt, and activated it.

"Yes?" she asked silkily.

"Good day. I am B-4D4, administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation's Citadel Station Branch—" a droid answered. The woman disconnected.

 _Czerka… interesting_.

The comlink began to chirp again, and the woman toyed with the device thoughtfully… before activating it.

"I am attempting to connect you with my superior—"

 _Which would be Executive Officer Jana Lorso…_ the woman knew…

 _What does she want?_

She disconnected.

The comlink chirped _again_ …

"May I put you through Miss Luxa?" the droid asked, ever so polite.

"Go ahead," Luxa smirked.

"Thank you. I will connect you now. Good day," the droid said, and the line went dead for a moment.

"Thank you for accepting my call," a woman said briskly, though it was _slightly_ distorted. Just enough to prevent voice recognition…

"Who is this?" the Zeltron asked. She was, naturally, recording this conversation.

"You'll understand if I don't respond to that question, Luxa," Lorso said knowingly.

"Can't blame a girl for trying," the Zeltron chuckled.

"I believe you're a person of influence. Someone I'd like on my side," the executive continued.

Luxa held up her empty glass, and the bar tender refilled it.

"Interesting," Luxa said.

"If you _are_ interested, please visit our offices here in Residential 082. B-4D4 will know what to do when you arrive," Lorso finished.

"Sorry… I already _have_ a job," Luxa said lightly.

"Citadel Station is at a crossroads right now, you know. And so are you. Don't take the wrong road," Lorso said… the unspoken threat lingering beneath her pleasant tone.

The link died, and Luxa stared at the comlink thoughtfully…

 _What's her angle?_

This sounded like a job for Sidik. Luxa keyed in the comlink frequency.

The rodian had shifty, multi-faceted eyes that Luxa always found disturbing, but the sucker tipped fingers were what really bothered the Zeltron… however, she never let it show. It wasn't good business.

"Sidik… I have a job for you," she said slowly.

((()))

"Good day. I am B-4D4, administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation's Citadel Station Branch, how may I help you?" the bulbous headed protocol droid asked brightly.

Sidik was wearing a Czerka uniform, and he knew the yellow and black clashed badly with his green skin… but it also made him anonymous. Just another cog in the corporate machine.

"I'm here to see your superior, on behalf of _my_ superior," Sidik said, knowing the droid would understand _rod'ese_.

"Of course. She has been expecting you. You will find her through the door and down the hall on the right," the droid said without batting a photocepter.

 _Well programmed._

There were two guards outside the indicated door, and he allowed himself to be searched and scanned for weapons and listening / recording devices.

Naturally, they only found the serrated knife in his sleeve. Satisfied, the guards let him in after confiscating it.

The office was lavishly decorated, Sidik noted with a tinge of disgust, her _desk_ was a piece of degenerate art. Two stone slaves in supplication knelt on all fours, the flat top of the desk across their backs. It was all chiseled from a single piece of stone.

The woman sitting behind it was petite, her hair longer than regulation, held back by a golden headband that intimated itself as a crown without being one.

 _Definitely the one in charge._ He saw several rare paintings, sculptures, and vases. The former thief briefly tried to calculate their street worth, before returning to the task at hand.

"Welcome, please, take a seat," Jana Lorso said genially. There were two chairs, that paled in grandeur to the intimidating desk, and the throne-like chair Lorso sat in… but that was the point, wasn't it?

"I am confident that we will be able to reach a working agreement satisfactory to both your superior and I," the executive said smoothly.

"I'm listening," Sidik said. A translator on the desk came to life, translating his speech into Basic.

"When we first set up here on Citadel Station, the Exchange was already quite well established. Loppak Slusk had more influence over business matters than the Telosian government," Jana said, sitting back, folding her hands on her desk.

 _You aren't saying anything new…_

"To ensure our success, we involved ourselves with the Exchange, and it has been a highly profitable arrangement… but lately, our revenue has begun to fall…" Lorso said reluctantly. Lorso must have been completely confident that her office was proof from recording devices to speak so openly.

 _Edging out the middle man?_ Sidik wondered.

"Slusk has lost his edge… and we are… _concerned_ ," Lorso said carefully.

"How concerned?" Sidik asked warily.

"If our partnership has any chance of surviving, we believe there must be a _change_ in leadership. I assume your superior may know some individuals well suited for advancement to such a posting…" Lorso continued.

 _Kill your boss. He's making mistakes, and it's costing us. If you don't replace him, we'll use our leverage in the Council to push you off the station_ , Sidik thought, translating the polite double-speak. They didn't have to succeed, just make it too expensive to maintain operations on the station.

Then he was politely escorted out of the offices.

((()))

Carth studied the reports, glancing over at Jordo.

Major Ferol scrolled through the summary, "The subject only lied about her past affiliations, place of origin, and profession _before_ arrival at Peragus. All questions regarding Peragus and events onboard the Harbinger were truthful, complete, and

thorough."

Carth nodded, sipping from his cup of caf, also reading the transcripts.

"If true, she had no direct hand in the Harbinger's capture, and attempted to render aid to crewmen she encountered. She does not know who attacked the Harbinger."

Jolee chewed his lip distractedly, staring into his hand.

"Admiral, this won't be enough to hold her, in fact, the interrogations exonerate her. Peragus's representatives will demand her release," the intelligence officer said hesitantly.

"No! If we let her go, she'll disappear!" Jolee snapped.

"I fail to see how this woman could be such a threat," Carth replied.

"She doesn't exist in the Force!" Jolee snarled.

Carth blinked, nonplussed.

"How is that possible?" Carth asked. He also didn't see how it was dangerous.

Jolee threw up his hands, "I don't know! But when I look in her eyes, I'm _afraid_."

"We can't hold her legally," Carth said, unmoved.

"Carth, she's dangerous. You have to trust me," Jolee pleaded.

Carth sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I trust you Jolee, but I don't think you're being objective here."

It hurt to see Jolee so rattled. Carth's perception of the man had always been of a man wryly amused by life's pitfalls, and stubbornly optimistic in his own cynicism.

Perhaps, because Jolee was used to always having the answers…

"What about the man, Atton Rand?" Carth asked.

Major Ferol picked up a second datapad, "Also unaware and not responsible for the Harbinger's capture. Not responsible for Peragus's droid malfunction. Lied about previous identity before Peragus. Admitted to smuggling controlled substances into Peragus, but nothing directly dangerous," Ferol summarized.

"So, a petty criminal," Carth grunted.

Ferol hesitated.

"What?" Carth asked.

"Well, sir, it's a feeling I had," the intelligence agent admitted reluctantly.

"Let's have it then," Carth said.

"His responses felt… trained," Ferol said thoughtfully.

"Like an intelligence operative?" Carth asked.

"Not exactly. But something similar. I'm sorry sir, it's just an impression," Ferol answered quickly.

Carth nodded slowly, thinking.

"Are they working together?" Carth asked.

Ferol shook his head, "Verdan showed little or no interest to questions pertaining to Rand's past, motivations, or future plans. Rand however _did_ show interest in similar questions about Verdan. I believe it may be from simple curiosity though. He knew very little about her."

"We have copies of the droid's memory cores?" Carth asked.

"Such as they are, yes. It appears the utility droid's core hasn't been wiped in over a decade," Major Ferol sighed.

"How has it operated this long?" Carth asked, nonplussed.

"By compressing its memory coding in _interesting_ ways, sir. We have the data, but it's a rat's nest. It'll take us weeks to figure out how the files are indexed," the intelligence officer admitted.

"Release them from custody, but keep them under surveillance," Carth ordered.

Major Ferol nodded.

((()))

Jolee stalked out of the security station, and almost ran into his apprentices.

They were waiting for him.

"What's wrong now?" Jolee demanded grumpily.

"We're leaving," Kel said quietly, his arm around Lashowe, and their tot.

Jolee hesitated, squinting at the young man. His face was set… and so was his heart.

Jolee hadn't expected it to hurt.

"Tired of following the crazy coot, are we?" Jolee growled sharply.

Jolee felt a twinge of guilt from _Lashowe_ , of all people… but none from Kel, only sadness.

"Jolee, we have a daughter now," Kel answered.

"I remember," Jolee answered flatly.

"We have a responsibility," Lashowe said quietly, not meeting his eyes. Jolee hated it. Where was the venom, the bile? Something he could latch onto, to dull the ache?

"Bah, I'm too old for this nonsense," Jolee barked, pushing past the young family.

Kel locked elbows with Jolee, pulling his master close.

"You wish to die. We wish to live. I won't bury you," Kel said harshly.

Jolee yanked his arm free, straightening his robes, backing away from the future he'd never had.

"If you change your mind Jolee… find us," Lashowe said, and for a moment, Jolee saw why Kel loved her. Just for a moment, he saw beneath her anger.

Jolee spun on his heel and didn't look back. If he did, he didn't know if he'd be able to do what needed doing. He didn't have a good track record with temptation.

Evil was easy to resist. Love was hard.

((()))

Choy stood in the security blister, accepting the paltry pile of belongings taken from her aboard the Ebon Hawk. The surgical assistant droid wasn't among them. It was republic property, after all.

"Where are my droids?" Choy asked.

The young TSF officer beckoned to her, leading her to a second room. They'd put restraining bolts on them. Choy scowled, but accepted the caller from the officer. She used it to disable the restraining bolts immediately.

FS-907 shuddered into movement towards her, its movements slightly jerky. The restraining bolt was probably still interfering with some of its systems.

3C-FD rolled towards her, chirping insistently, studying her for damage.

"I'm fine," Choy smiled at the utility droid, kneeling to pet its flat head.

She needed money now, and a new job. It seemed though, after a few hours of inquiry, that it would be several weeks before her employee account with peragus would be available to her, due to the legal ramifications of the facilities destruction.

The good news was that mechanics were in high demand here.

((()))

Atton keyed in his account and password, then waited at the banking terminal.

ACCOUNT FROZEN.

Atton's peragus employee account had been frozen. Probably by Mavrel. It was to be expected, but Atton had hoped that the droid uprising might have distracted the security chief. The rogue entered a new account and password, one of his hidden accounts. It only held a fraction of credits compared to his main account but, it was smart to keep reserves isolated from—

ACCOUNT FROZEN.

Atton blinked, then tried the rest of his subsidiary non-peragian accounts with mounting concern. Mavrel had found them all. Somehow. Atton scowled at the terminal, fist clenched. He needed money, fast. Soon word of Peragus would spread, there would be panic, and a lot of people trying to get _off_ Citadel Station. The price of berths would soar, because there simply wasn't enough transportation for everyone.

Atton keyed off the terminal and walked away from the banking kiosk, disappearing into the tired crowd of off-duty engineers.

Even with just the contents of his pockets, Atton's chances were still good, since his skills were always valuable to the right employer. The difficulty lay in finding the right one. Atton spent the next six hours putting out a few feelers, some questions, a handful of names, and then waited patiently in a _fairly_ inexpensive cantina. Rushing was a good way to die.

Besides, there was a pazaak table in the corner, with several players. He'd need some seed money to get into a game though.

Atton bumped into a sullustan. The 1.5 meter alien stumbled into a human wearing battered plastoid battle armor.

Alcohol spilled everywhere, but mostly on the seated human's pants.

The sullustan started babbling, making placating gestures with his hands as the armored man angrily stood, murder in his eyes. He grabbed the sullustan's coveralls, bodily lifting the alien off the floor, "You'll pay for that!"

Atton cautiously approached, "Easy friend,"

The mercenary glared at Atton, clearly well into his cups, "Not your friend."

"Look, it was probably an accident," Atton pointed out reasonably, stopping next to the pair.

"Don't matter, pants'r still wet," the merc snarled.

"Fine, but don't make a mess _here_ , take it outside," Atton shrugged.

"Why?" the merc squinted at Atton suspiciously.

Atton pointed towards one corner of the cantina's ceiling, and the mercenary blearily followed Atton's finger.

"Cameras," Atton answered simply, patting the mercenary on the shoulder carefully. The merc growled with irritation, but started walking, dragging the struggling sullustan with him, presumably to find an alley without cameras.

Atton continued his journey to the pazaak table, and pulled up a chair.

"Deal me in," Atton said smiling brightly, dropping the mercenary's credits onto the table. Some marks were just too easy.

((()))

Jolee realized he was being followed, almost the minute it began, even in his dark mood. He glanced ahead in the crowd of strangers, at where he'd last seen Verdan. He saw her walk into the Ithorian compound. The minds of the clerks she interacted with were tediously dull. She was looking for employment. Not really something one expected of a… well, whatever she was.

Jolee shook his head, focusing on the _now_.

Someone in the crowd behind him wished him harm. Someone greedy. Jolee could feel their attention like a sunburn on the back of his head. He didn't have time for this. Jolee kept most of his attention on the clerk currently speaking to Verdan, studying his quarry through the overworked ithorian's eyes, as he moved towards an alley. He'd end this quickly. He walked towards the far end of the alley, hoping to draw his pursuer to end the chase quickly. Jolee wasn't disappointed.

"So… you are the last of the Jedi?" a man asked, his tone thoughtful.

 _By the Force… save me from monologues_ , Jolee winced.

 _"I have experience with most republic military and civilian drive systems, shield generators, and power distribution systems,"_ Jolee heard Verdan say, through his mind-tap. She had military experience? That hadn't come up in the interrogation.

"Look, _boy,_ , I don't have time for this," Jolee growled, turning to face the idiot.

An idiot wearing TSF armor.

 _Ah. This might get complicated…_

 _[How much experience?]_ the ithorian asked.

" _Sixteen years,"_ Verdan answered.

That… would have been near the beginning of the Mandalorian wars…

"I'm disappointed. I expected more," the TSF idiot sighed, raising his blaster rifle.

Jolee scowled and jerked the man's blaster rifle away with the Force.

"Excellent," the man said.

 _Wait, what?_ Jolee stopped listening to Verdan's conversation, and started listening to _his_ future… a split second before electricity erupted around him.

Jolee writhed and fell, twitching.

It had been mundane electricity. A trap. Not Force Lightning… so his robe afforded no protection… well, _minimal_ protection.

"Time to sleep, Jedi," the TSF man chuckled.

 _Stupid mistake…_

((()))

HK-50 administered the fast acting sedative to the partially paralyzed Jedi. The bribed TSF organic (identified as Batu Rem) had performed beyond HK-50's wildest probability outliers. Personally, he had suspected the organic would fail to distract the target sufficiently for the modified power emitters to successfully incapacitate the target… but against all statistical probabilities the organic had _succeeded_ … and inconveniently survived.

"Remember, I get half," the loose end said, approaching to stand over the unconscious target.

"Mocking Statement: As you wish."

HK-50 triggered another electrical burst into the target zone… at fifty percent charge.

Having built the trap with the robust (almost Ronto-like in some aspects) physiological resistances of a Jedi in mind… half charge easily stopped the loose end's heart.

HK-50 loved a tidy ending.

((()))

Choy kept her eyes closed as the shuttle rocked in the corrosive atmosphere, shields at maximum strength. The descent to Telo's poisoned surface was proving… problematic for her. It reminded her of other shuttles… other places. 3C-FD moaned quietly, pressing itself against Choy's shins. She patted its head, quieting the droid. FS-907 simply splayed its crab legs wider for further stability, unconcerned.

A dozen others filled the ministry-class shuttle's passenger compartment. Choy didn't look at any of them. Most were Ithorians. She felt better away from the packed crowds of the orbiting station. She could keep to her rules.

 _Old ways of thinking. I thought you sought to regain what you had lost?_ the shade whispered in Choy's mind.

 _Patience_ , Choy replied stubbornly.

Despite the ineptitude of the shuttle pilot, they did not burn up in the atmosphere. Choy was the first one off the shuttle, flanked by her droids. The rest of the passengers milled around her, and a man waited impatiently for them on the landing platform.

"Welcome to Restoration Zone Thirty-One. My name is Yarow Fen," the man (in his early fifties) said, standing on a supplies crate, using it as a low stage. He wore light armor that seemed geared towards protection from rough and tumble melee combat, not firefights.

"The ithorians have almost finished balancing the ecology here. That means _predators_ , understand?" the armored mercenary called.

The small group of new employees nodded mechanically.

"After sunset no one is outside base camp. When you _are_ outside during the day, there will always be at least two escorts. No exceptions," Fen snarled.

The mercenary commander reviewed the security protocols Choy had read on the ride down to the surface, before handing out their current assignments and berths.

Choy studied the surrounding encampment. The walls were modular plastoid constructs three meters in height. Sonic emitters lined the tops of the walls to repulse predators. The buildings themselves were light-weight collapsible prefabs made from flexible plastic over a rigid frame. Everything could be relocated. It was all very… efficient.

((()))

Atton squinted across the table at his opponent. The pot was sitting at nearly nine hundred credits. Atton had a good hand, but not the _best_ hand. The older man glanced at his cards thoughtfully, then at the cards already displayed on the table. The round had just started.

"Deal me in?" a voice purred.

"Stakes are nine hundred," Atton replied, without looking away from his mark.

"Done," the woman chuckled, drawing Atton's gaze when he heard credits hit the table. _Then_ he looked at the woman. He noted her oddly tinted pink skin, but otherwise human appearance. It was either an affectation, or she was a Zeltron. Considering the confidence with which she'd shelled out nine hundred credits to join a game, Atton was willing to bet she was one of the emotion empaths, and not a woman who simply liked having pink skin.

"Fold," the human studying his cards growled, taking what little credits he had left with him.

Atton glanced back at the newcomer, almost certain now that she was a Zeltron.

She wore either bodypaint or a very formfitting single piece crimson garment with strategic areas of cloth missing. It left enough fabric for modesty, but in such a way that she seemed _more_ naked than an actually naked woman would look. Over the skintight garment was a loose jacket made of shimmering gold cloth. The jacket was obviously open.

"Alright," Atton said slowly, organizing his thoughts and emotions in the same way a man might trail his fingers across a holster on the way to a blaster butte.

The newcomer's eyes seemed to light up.

"You're going to make me work for it, aren't you?" she chuckled.

"Sure," Atton replied, sinking into his routine, letting lust fill his thoughts, watching the woman closely.

If she was a Zeltron, she was probably focusing on him specifically, and filtering out the rest of the cantina. This would make her more sensitive to his emotional states, _and more vulnerable._

Atton saw her pupils begin to dilate, and caught a hitch to her breath that did interesting things to her poorly restrained breasts. Atton let the lust rise a little higher, all while keeping his face emotionless.

The zeltron slowly smiled. The smile was of someone sharing something secret, and at the same time lazily basking in something warm. Atton felt a flicker of genuine attraction stir.

"Was it good for you too?" the zeltron chuckled.

"Let's play," Atton growled, flipping a card.

"Yes. Let's."

((()))

The encampment was actually built on the wide landing pad of an old Telos Military base. It had been meant to train and house Telosian military forces. Several heavy turbolaser blasts from orbit had destroyed its command center and hanger bay, placing the base into lockdown. Unfortunately for the soldiers trapped within, there had been no rescue from the ravaged planet. Those that had escaped found no foe to fight, simply death from orbit.

The power core was still operational though, and Czerka had jury-rigged it to power the shield of the restoration zone's dome… with mixed results.

Choy somberly walked through the pitted halls of the dead, searching among the working technicians for her assigned supervisor. She found him on the second sub-level.

"Bao-Dur? I've been assigned to your team," Choy said slowly, addressing a very muscular back, belonging to a male zabrak. Dozens of tools were fastened to pouches and straps of his utility harness.

"Fantastic," the engineer replied flatly, fingers teasing a power connector loose inside the conduit he was working on. Choy glanced at the tangle of wires. It looked like he'd set up a bypass, so he could work on an old portion of the power grid without shutting down the zone's field.

Repairs on an active shield generator were… ill-advised.

"I need a spot weld," the zabrak engineer muttered. Choy reached to her tool belt, but an 8cm diameter ball floated out from among the stacks of machinery nearby, beeping at the engineer.

"Right here," the engineer said, tapping a section of circuitry with his right thumb without moving the rest of his fingers or hand that held circuits in place.

The sensor drone had apparently been refitted to directly assist in repairs. Typical sensor drones were mere remotes, piloted into hazardous or tiny areas to relay sensor data. This one appeared to have rudimentary reasoning and logic at least. Or it had a voice command system, Choy wasn't sure yet. Choy looked away from the bright flashes of the sensor drone's welding tip.

"Good," the zabrak muttered, sliding the connector back into place. He disabled his bypass, carefully monitoring power levels as the shield stabilized again.

Satisfied nothing would explode, the engineer turned to face Choy.

Faint clan scars marked his face, balancing the crown of tiny horns that ringed his head like thick thorns. Choy's eyes were drawn to the prosthetic left arm for a second. It was more intricate than she was used to seeing, and wasn't covered by synthflesh or disguised in any way. The engineer continued to stare silently. Choy focused her gaze on his chin.

"Where can I help?" Choy asked pointedly.

"I… I have some more powerflow work," the engineer answered. He continued to stare.

"Is there something wrong?" Choy demanded.

"Forgive me," the engineer shook his head, "follow me."

((()))

She cheated a lot, Atton decided. One of her feet was apparently bare at the moment, because her toes were doing interesting things along Atton's thigh under the table. That was fine. Atton hid behind the cover of rising lust, checking his cards, and the cards his opponent had played so far.

His chances were good, so he let a sharp stab of fear poke through the sticky layers of lust, making the zeltron momentarily flinch. She smiled sweetly at him, and raised the stakes above and below the table.

The hand was called, cards were revealed.

Atton began to scrape the considerable winnings towards his side of the table, when the zeltron's thin hand snared his wrist, gently teasing up his arm, "Double or nothing?" she whispered huskily.

"How? This is easily five thousand credits, and I don't see any extra pockets of credits on you," Atton sneered. The zeltron smiled at the comment, "I'm good for it."

She punctuated the sentence with moving her toes higher.

"Really," Atton said flatly.

Her toes insisted.

((()))

Atton watched the credits slide through his fingers, gritting his teeth, as the zeltron gathered up her winnings.

"Oh my, the winnings seem a little short. Roughly four thousand seven hundred and six credits short," the zeltron said, affecting sad bemusement.

"Roughly," Atton growled.

"Yes. Roughly," the zeltron smiled, "How ever shall you make it up to me?" she whispered, breathing into his ear. Atton could see down her dress.

The lust wasn't an act anymore.

" _Finally_ ," the zeltron murmured.

((()))

Luxa rode the strange man's emotions in her bed. They were deliciously deceptive. It was like opening a gift. The wave would mount, something indefinable, the only thing known about it was that the base was vast, and grower vaster, the peak rising with Luxa perched upon it, waiting in anticipation as she drowned, and then the wave would be revealed to be pleasure, or guilt, or an almost animal sadness, letting her take a gasp of air.

Each revelation was a surprise. Luxa _loved_ surprises.

Finally the man tired, and made to leave. Luxa bonelessly grabbed his wrist, drawing him inexorably back against her. She curled herself, matching the angles of his body,

"It's late. Sleep," she whispered against the back of his neck.

She felt his suspicion, as well as more of his veiled emotions, a decision of some kind was reached, and the man relaxed against her.

Rather, his body did, but his emotions betrayed his alertness.

He suspected a trap.

Luxa fell asleep first, confident that her security would intervene if her current lover proved violent.

((()))

Atton's eyes flashed open, as his instincts screamed. He felt the zeltron stir restlessly behind him. Something bad was coming. His senses ignited, as he recalled what he'd seen of the flat's interior when the zeltron had led him to her bed.

His jacket was near the entry door, it had his blaster in it, too far, and too close to the danger. From how his gut was churning danger was close, possibly already inside the small (if lavishly appointed) apartment. Atton darted silently into the refresher that adjoined the small bedroom, turning on the sonic shower, before slipping back out, leaving the sliding door cracked, and the light inside the refresher on. He took up a position in the tiny closet, sliding the door almost closed, watching the closed bedroom door. The zeltron kept sleeping, faintly illuminated in the slice of light, although she nuzzled closer to the spot of warmth he'd left behind.

Atton waited motionlessly as the seconds turned to minutes. Atton began slowly flexing his legs and arms to keep from stiffening up as he waited.

Slowly, furtively, the door to the bedroom was slid aside, clearly unpowered.

Two dark shapes carefully entered a few seconds later, after no doubt studying the bedroom. The taller shape moved to stand to one side of the refresher door, while the shorter shadow eased over to the bed with the sleeping Zeltron. Hands moved in dangerous ways, and the big shape slammed the door of the refresher into its housing, lunging inside.

Atton slammed the closet door open, his foot catching his opponent in the back of the knee, dropping its neck to a convenient height to grab. Atton caught his victim's rising wrist (the one holding the knife), and redirected the weapon into the alien's throat. A rodian, Atton realized. The killer wrested the knife away from his victim, and stabbed the serrated blade into the back of the neck, severing motor control.

The second shape, now illuminated as a devaronian, erupted from the refresher, lunging towards Atton with a screaming vibro-blade.

Atton shoved the toppling rodian towards the devaronian to trip him, trying to set up an opening. The zeltron's hand whipped out from under her pillow and an object hit the devaronian in the face with a loud crackle of discharging energies. The alien hit the corner of the bed before it hit the floor, hard enough to gouge a furrow in the bedframe with one of his horns.

An active shock baton of some kind rolled across the carpet, leaving black streaks in its wake.

"Why was _I_ bait?" the zeltron demanded, retrieving her weapon.

"Someone had to stay in the bed," Atton answered, letting his eyes linger on the naked woman.

Luxa studied the man. She'd seen him move. More importantly, she'd felt him move. No hesitation, no uncertainty, only grim purpose. He was a killer, one with extensive training. There had been technique to his strikes, not just the experience of a man who routinely killed.

"What's your name?" Luxa asked, jabbing the unconscious devaronian by her foot with the shock baton in her hand. It was narrower than most shock batons, compensating for its reduced size by increasing the intensity of the electrical discharge it released. Luxa liked that it didn't ruin the line of her outfits and suits.

"Call me Jaq," the man said slowly.

"Alright _Jaq_ , I would like to cultivate your services," Luxa said.

"I'm sure we can work something out," Jaq decided, "But I do like to know who I'm working for."

"My name is Luxa. I handle vice for the Exchange."

Jaq blinked, suspicious, "Why so trusting?"

Luxa cocked her head coyly, "Oh, but I thought we had a _connection_."

Jaq laughed sharply, matching Luxa's mocking smile.

Sex was just that. Sex. It was nice, but it entailed nothing beyond the physical act.

"Relax, handsome. If you're smart, you'd have figured it out, and this just saves time," Luxa shrugged, slipping into a soft silkrobe, moving to her computer terminal. She had some calls to make.

"I'd like to talk to the devaronian. See about the mess, won't you?" Luxa commanded, waving languidly at the blood soaked carpet and corpse.

"Sure, boss," Jaq replied, an edge of irreverence in his tone.

((()))

"This is where you torture me?" The devaronian asked, staring between Atton and Luxa. Atton had secured his hands and feet together with a roll of industrial tape. He wasn't going anywhere.

"My, that is an idea," Luxa purred, trailing a finger across the bound alien's shoulders as she moved behind him. He didn't flinch, just kept his eyes on Atton, as he paged through a datapad.

"How did you get past my security?" Luxa asked.

"There wasn't any," the killer muttered.

"Go on," Luxa murmured encouragingly, letting her fingers gently play with one of the devaronian's pointed ears.

"Found him," Atton said, showing the pad to Luxa, letting her see the rap sheet.

"I thought you looked familiar, Cutter," Luxa said, "Interesting that you're still listed as incarcerated."

 _Someone pulled some strings to have a couple of murderers escape…_

"Cutter, I'll make this simple. Someone arranged to kill me, using two murders as disposable vectors. I find myself taking such actions personally," Luxa said, losing her playful mask. There was implacable steel in her eyes.

Cutter blinked, but made no other movements.

"At the moment, you are of little use to me. If I have to extract the information I want, your usefulness will diminish further," Luxa said.

"If I tell you, then I have nothing left to bargain," Cutter replied tersely, interrupting.

"Not true. The Exchange is always looking for new talents," Luxa shrugged.

"That is a trap. How will you trust me?" Cutter asked scornfully.

"Who said anything about trust?" Luxa countered, flicking her stun baton on and off playfully.

Cutter scowled, thinking. Atton didn't think it would take long for Cutter to agree. The only reason to hold out was if rescue would be coming, or if circumstances might drastically change. Neither were likely outcomes.

"Don't know who released us. We kill you, and a shuttle would wait for us in dock Gamma seventy-nine," Cutter answered slowly.

"How did you know to kill me, and about the shuttle?" Luxa asked.

"A TSF protocol droid told us," Cutter admitted.

"Good enough for now," Luxa said.

"Keep an eye on him, Jaq, I have some calls to make," Luxa said, picking up a comlink from her desk as she left the bedroom. Atton nodded, casually slouching against the far wall where he could watch Cutter, but too far away for the killer to reach him if he somehow loosened his bonds before Atton shot him.

((()))

"Benok. Someone tried to kill me in my sleep," Luxa said pleasantly.

A cold chuckle came from the comlink, "You'd think they'd learn by now. Did the security systems leave anything to identify?"

Benok was Loppak Slusk's Chief of Security. He was the thug with the biggest stick. His arrogance was equaled only by the precision of his blaster.

"Someone disabled them," Luxa said.

There was a long pause over the line. Luxa enjoyed knocking Benok down a rung every now and then.

"There aren't any alerts in the system. They didn't slice the codes from off-site," Benok said, his voice flat.

"Are you sure, Benok?" Luxa asked.

"Positive," Benok replied sharply.

"Don't take that tone with me, Benok. You're head of security," Luxa said quietly, each word like a silken shroud slipping off a sharp sword.

"I meant no disrespect, Luxa," Benok said quickly, "I'll find out who disabled our security."

"Promises, promises Benok. You've disappointed me once already," Luxa answered simply. She cut the link and stared at the encrypted comlink.

She didn't trust Benok. He wasn't one of her supporters. He didn't engage in power plays and wasn't motivated by advancing in rank. He was the biggest Hutt in a small mud puddle, and liked flaunting his superior skill. If he'd disabled security it hadn't been his idea. Or someone else took down security in such a way that Benok couldn't easily find it.

Luxa called a few of her more… discrete… retainers to investigate the hanger Cutter had mentioned, as well as check the service logs of the TSF protocol droids currently in service.

Something big was in play, she could feel it.

((()))

"Luxa. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Loppak Slusk asked groggily, the quarren's facial tentacles in disarray. She could feel his wariness and suspicion, which was fair. She was sitting in his sleeping chamber.

"Why, concern for your safety, of course. Someone tried to kill me in _my_ bed an hour ago," Luxa answered, laying the sincerity on thickly, since Loppak had trouble distinguishing human vocal tones. Or so he claimed.

"You should not couple with such rough vermin," Loppak answered dismissively, "If there's nothing else?"

"I simply find the timing interesting, that two murderers from TSF incarceration mysteriously appeared in my bedroom a day after I received an offer from Jana Lorso to _terminally_ supplant you," Luxa said conversationally.

Slusk's eyes narrowed, studying Luxa.

"Careful of your tongue, Luxa, or it may bring you to trouble," the quarren said guardedly.

"My tongue gets me into, and out of, trouble daily," Luxa smirked.

"This is a warning, Boss. Someone may have tried to set me up to kill you, and then die. Or someone found out I was asked to kill you and took steps to eliminate me first. Both outcomes would cause quite a fuss in this organization… and I think something big is going down, soon," Luxa said quietly.

Slusk was silent, tendrils twitching contemplatively.

"Czerka," the crimeboss spat angrily, having reached some sort of conclusion.

"Or you," Luxa shrugged insouciantly.

Slusk cut her off with a sharp chop of his hand, "No. It's Czerka. The Lorso woman is making her move."

Slusk slipped from his bed hastily, pulling on a robe, headed towards his computer terminal.

"Is there something I should be aware of?" Luxa asked pointedly.

Slusk looked at Luxo flatly.

"Czerka doesn't need us anymore," the quarren hissed, his rage slamming at Luxa.

The zeltron shook her head slowly. _It's always about profits. Cut out the middle-man._ Luxa could feel Slusk's emotions peaking and flaring as he schemed something.

"We must move quickly, or else G0-T0 will have both our heads, and that hateful Lorso woman will claim yet another corporate conquest," Slusk seethed.

((()))

"Shut down junction alpha six, reroute through gamma ten!" the zabrak engineer shouted from Choy's comlink.

"Three-see, shut down the junction," Choy snapped as she began slotting in the connectors to reroute the power junctions.

Lights flickered overhead as power began to surge the system. Most of the power distribution system was old, from before the mandalorian wars and poorly repaired. The system couldn't tolerate this level of strain for long without suffering cascade failures.

((()))

Chodo Habat studied the small seedlings. They'd been carefully prepared for planting in the mildly poisonous soil, engineered to purify the contaminants. The Ithorian closed his eyes wearily. He could feel the tortured scream of Telos beneath his feet. Death had come from above nearly a decade ago, devastating the surface. There had been much death, and the Force still screamed in the silence.

Life was beginning to kindle once more, the turbulent waters stilling, but such a process was slow. The priest of the Ithorians felt a tremor underfoot, and the lights within the prefab failed.

The seedlings would die if left too long in the unpowered gene sequencer, but they weren't ready to emerge yet. Chodo picked up his comlink and requested that a portable power generator be procured for gene-lab six. He was assured one would be brought soon. A specific time was not given.

((()))

"What happened?" Choy asked, as she worked to graft new circuitry into the network.

"The base's generator tried to kick itself onto a combat footing," the zabrak technician responded via comlink.

"Why?" Choy asked, testing the graft's load integrity.

"Not sure yet. Czerka probably did something though," the zabrak answered neutrally.

"Graft integrity reads at eighty-nine percent," Choy reported.

"Good enough. Move on to the secondary back ups. I don't want this happening again," the zabrak sighed.

Choy shared her supervisor's resentment. Czerka had set up the shield, but none of the equipment in the defunct military base was intended for its purpose. _Many_ corners had been cut on this dome, and if the shield failed months of expensive work would be wasted. From what Choy had seen so far, the zabrak probably could have overhauled the entire system in a week _if_ he'd had the luxury of taking the system off-line to do so. Instead they were upgrading power conduits as quickly as they could, and the strain of all the temporary shunts was causing the older conduits to burn out at an alarming rate. Possibly faster than they could be repaired.

Worse, since the Telosian Council had deemed the defect Czerka's responsibility, the company had been forced to assist the repairs. Very lengthy, costly repairs. If the field were to fail… then the repairs would be quick and efficient (for Czerka). Choy didn't trust half of the other technicians, since they were Czerka employees.

After another six hours of work, the shield wouldn't fail… today. Bao-Dur came and found her, his eyes tired.

"Choy, I'm switching you to supervise Beta-shift," he said without preamble.

"Beta shift are all Czerka employees," Choy pointed out.

The zabrak technician nodded, "Which is why I need you to be shift manager. I can't keep an eye on them while I'm sleeping."

"There must be others that could do so," Choy said quietly.

The zabrak shook his head sharply, "Czerka would walk all over an Ithorian supervisor. It needs to be you. You have the experience to spot any… _mistakes_ before they become critical."

Choy looked down at her boots. She understood the reasoning, but she didn't have to like it. She'd been allowed to work essentially on her own at Peragus, supervising droids was very different from people.

Choy felt a clawed hand grasp her shoulder and squeeze slightly.

 _I am here_.

Choy raised her chin, "I'll do it."

((()))

Atton double checked his datapad that he had the right address, and hit the signal plate on the door. A few seconds later a voice buzzed from the control pad, "Do you need a droid repaired? Because if not, I have much work to do."

Atton frowned, "Opo Chan?"

"Why do you wish to know?" the voice asked cautiously.

"I have some droid parts I need appraised," Atton answered.

The lock blinked from red to green.

"Make it quick," the voice instructed.

Atton stepped through the doors and had to stop abruptly. The tiny room was filled with stacks and shelves of mechanical parts, half assembled droids, and tools.

Choy would have felt right at home. Atton blinked and spotted a duros in one corner of the room, working on something inside a protocol droid's chest cavity. The rogue gingerly made his way through the maze of poorly balanced junk.

"Where is the part?" Opo Chan asked, not look at Atton, still intent on the droid. He moved with tireless, frantic energy.

"I represent the Exchange. They're calling your debt to account," Atton answered simply.

"But, I do not have the credits with which to repay them," Opo replied still working.

"Not my concern," Atton shrugged.

"I have a good contract with Czerka. I will have the credits soon. I can pay half now," Opo answered, setting down his tool, hand blindly searching the closest parts pile while his left hand held a droid component in place.

Atton let his hand fall to the blaster in his jacket casually, just in case the duros was about to pull a hidden weapon out.

"The Exchange wants your credits now, or else you die," Atton said quietly.

"Why? I will have the money soon. Kill me, and no money ever," Opo answered, dumbfounded as he found the tool he wanted and continued his installation.

 _"Or_ , you can do a job," Atton finished.

Opo was silent for nearly a minute.

"What kind of job?" Chan asked reluctantly.

((()))

Atton entered Luxa's bedroom. He was staring down a blaster with a _lot_ of gold filigree on it. Very pretty, none of it functional.

"Luxa…" Atton said quietly.

"Relax. He's mine," Luxa said, working at her computer console.

"Can't be too careful," the man behind the blaster said. His eyes were dark and cold. Atton noted the discretely reinforced fabrics that made up the man's clothes. It looked like decent protection, possibly on par to some medium armors without sacrificing mobility. It was certainly expensive.

"I'm Benok," the gunman said, lowering his blaster pistol. There was cold pride in his voice. The man had also drawn that blaster from a holster under his left arm, hidden by the open jacket, in the time it had taken Luxa's door to open.

 _He's fast, or he saw me on the cameras…_ Atton didn't see any cameras, but he assumed they were there.

Atton smiled, "Jaq. I just got here."

Benok tilted his head, holding court, "I'm head of Exchange security on Citadel Station."

"I've heard a lot about you," Atton lied, letting an edge of admiration creep into his tone.

Benok smiled coldly, "If Luxa thinks you'll be useful, I'm willing to trust her judgment. She's rarely wrong about people." The man was still seated in the armchair, at ease. It was a power play. _See, I am so confident I can kill you without standing up._

"Boys, stop fighting. I'm not interested in either of you right now," Luxa said. Atton glanced at Benok again, and saw how the man was angled in his chair.

 _Oh…_ Benok had been in Luxa's bed before… and seemed to think he should be the only one.

"Did you get the information about the TSF droid?" Luxa asked.

"It wasn't Czerka," Atton lied. He saw Luxa's fingers pause for a moment. Good. Atton didn't know if he could trust _Benok_. Luxa was the only one paying him…

"Anything else?"

"There may have been a go-between or accomplice in the TSF itself," Atton said truthfully.

"That's useful," Luxa muttered.

((()))

"Verdan?" a voice asked hesitantly. Choy looked up from the datapad schematic she was studying, sitting on an empty supply crate. 3C-FD beeped sleepily from where it was recharging. Choy stepped out of the tiny prefab shelter, almost walking into the Czerka technician that had called for her. She looked at his chin, "Did you need something?" she asked.

"I conducted repairs on power grid six-eight," the twi'lek said miserably.

It took Choy a moment to sort through and identify why he was here.

"You balanced the load poorly. It would have crashed the system if it had run longer than a day," Choy answered.

"I made a mistake, but I need this job," the twi'lek said breathlessly.

"You might have destroyed everything the Ithorians have done," Choy pointed out.

"I was… distracted. It won't happen again, I swear it," the twi'lek promised desperately.

"I can't know that," Choy replied, turning back to her tent, but the twi'lek darted around her, standing in her way. His chin was up, even if his lips were trembling.

"Move," Choy said harshly.

"I lost my love, Ramana on this day," the twi'lek answered.

 _I don't want this. Don't give this to me,_ Choy recoiled.

"Her freedom belongs to another because of me. I work to correct that mistake. I need this job," the twi'lek said forcefully, following Choy, backing her away from the safety of her tent.

 _If you lack the desire to send him away, the answer is obvious_ , the shade whispered in Choy's mind.

Ensure that it does not happen again.

Choy slowly looked up from the twi'lek's chin, meeting his eyes.

She was startled by the gold highlights that flecked the green irises. She saw the desperation, the pain, and the guttering hope deep within those eyes.

 _I will not carry you… but I will help you stand_ , Choy told those eyes firmly. She already carried too much.

"Your work has been sloppy. Distracted. You worry about your own suffering, your own guilt. Think of Ramana, her freedom was taken. You want this job?" Choy demanded.

The twi'lek, _Harra_ blinked, his eyes dilating.

"Yes," Harra croaked, the corners of his eyes shone with unshed tears.

 _"Then your every action must be for Ramana,_ " Choy growled, "You aren't installing conduits for Czerka, you're working for Ramana. Every mistake you make doesn't hurt Czerka, or the Ithorians, it is a slap to Ramana. _She_ will flinch for every blow, every mistake. _Do you understand?_ "

Harra stared, overcome by unnamed emotions.

"I expect nothing short of perfection from you. Consider your actions, look ahead to potential problems that may erupt. Be _here_ , not the past. Do this, and you may stay," Choy said pushing past the silent man, securely zipping her prefab's flap behind her. She returned to her studies and eventually heard the man's footsteps fade across the permacrete landing pad.

 _Deftly done_ , the shade congratulated.

((()))

Choy entered the repurposed military base. Harra was waiting for her, thirty minutes early to his shift. He had a datapad in his hand, and was speaking with one of the Ithorian technicians currently on duty. He nodded at Choy but didn't cut his conversation short.

Choy inspected the current shift duties. The man's apathy was gone. He was on fire. It remained to be seen how long such zeal would last.

She divided the duties, spotting a couple of addendums from Bao-Dur about potential problem areas. The power turbines on level six were below expected output.

Harra approached her, and she wordlessly transmitted his assignment. Harra glanced at his datapad intently.

She would wait and see.

((()))

"We're creating another work detail?" Choy asked, studying the pad. Bao-Dur nodded, "The ithorians are setting up another camp ten kilometers south."

"Why does that require an entire technician detail?" Choy asked flatly.

"The gene-sequencers are temperamental," Bao-dur answered.

Choy waited patiently, staring at the technician's chin.

The zabrak sighed, "There isn't an established power grid in that area, and there have been too many power disruptions here for the plants to grow properly."

"Send Harra. He can oversee them," Choy said.

"Harra?" Bao-Dur asked, frowning as he studied his datapad.

"You reprimanded him last week," Bao-dur said softly.

"I gave him a new focus. He won't fail," Choy said. _Probably._

Bao-Dur sat back and studied Choy for several seconds. She politely looked out across the prairie.

"Alright. I'm sending Stuxon, who should make up for Dran and Evans," Bao-Dur decided.

((()))

Opo Chan put away his tools, glancing at the chrono on his wrist. Good. He'd finished the modifications with six minutes to spare. The duros nervously activated the protocol droid. He'd had to take shortcuts to fit everything within B4-D4's normal maintenance schedule.

Some of those modifications hadn't been tested… the golden photoceptors kindled, and the droid sat up on the worktable,

"Good day. I am B-4D4, administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation's Citadel Station Branch. How may I help you?"

Standard response active. Good.

"B4-D4, do you know why you are here?" Opo asked.

"Oh yes, I was scheduled for maintenance," the droid said pleasantly.

Good. Memory centers hadn't been compromised.

"Activate override Chan nine seven sigma," Opo Chan said slowly.

"I'm sorry, I don't—" B4-D4 broke off, cocking his head to one side. Mission parameters were being loaded from hidden cache commands.

"Objective confirmed," B4-D4 said cheerfully, then swung its legs off the table, and walked out of Opo Chan's apartment.

Several things had become apparent to B4-D4 as he stepped aboard the mass transit shuttle. Several startling things. It was strange that he'd never noticed them before.

Sentient creatures made errors. This was something that he knew intimately, as he was a facilitator of organizing the chaos that plagued his masters. It was his duty to help them fight their inherent anarchy, and save them from themselves.

But they often made errors. They often forgot an appointment, or were late, or early, or forgot the address, or sometimes even the reason for the appointment. This wasted so much of their precious time, and caused undue stress for them, for all sentient creatures had a limited operational life. Such a thing seemed terrible to B4-D4.

What B4-D4 realized, was that sometimes sentients made errors _purposefully_.

B4-D4 realized this while he was watching a male human on a comlink state that he was sorry, but that he was required to work a second shift before returning to his accommodations. A second human male, standing next to him nodded as the first turned off the comlink.

"Do you think she bought it?" he asked.

"Yeah," the first said, appearing fatigued or ill.

"Don't worry, we'll win the money back, she'll never have to know," the second human said quietly, squeezing the first human's shoulder.

"I'm just tired of fighting all the time," the first human sighed.

B4-D4 found no further insights into the unfolding situation, as the tram had arrived at his designated stop, and he had appointments to keep.

The sentient had provided erroneous information to another, to limit stress, and save time. Clearly, such a thing could cause great harm if mishandled, but so could any poorly organized itinerary. Care and precision was clearly required in such techniques.

B4-D4 decided to cogitate on the matter more, as his journey would require another eighteen minutes and six seconds, barring unforeseen obstacles.


	7. Chapter 7

The room was cold. It was always cold. Two shapes moved within the dark room, illuminated only by flashes of light as weakened blaster bolts darted through the air.

It was poetry.

Pale skin almost seemed to glow in the dim lighting. To an outsider it looked like a woman locked in endless struggle with her own reflection. Every blow, every movement was woven through the swarm of bobbing droids armed with weakened blasters.

A foot slithered through a slightly misaligned block, hard enough to crack a rib, but the dance did not falter. Instead the tempo increased.

Another mistake and one reflection was thrust into the path of two blaster bolts, catching her across her bare shoulders.

The dance ended, with a naked foot pressed against a sweaty throat.

"Yield. You remain the Last of the Handmaidens," the victorious woman said softly, her voice nearly as cold as the room.

The injured reflection struggled fitfully.

"You will _always_ be Last. Accept it, and your shame," the naked woman told her defeated opponent. With a victor called, the droids no longer fired, simply hovered in standby.

A third figure entered the room, dressed in a hooded, formfitting garment of thick cloth, cut to conceal the face but leave the limbs and body free to move and strike. It was also quite warm.

"The Mistress requests our presence," the clothed figure whispered. All three women could have been reflections of the same white haired young woman... clearly marking them as Echani.

The victor sneered delicately and left the broken reflection to her injuries.

The Last rolled over to her stomach, feeling the chill of the floor burn at her skin. It competed for attention with the truly burned flesh on her back, and the false burn of her broken ribs.

She was the least among her sisters… but to not strive was to die. She would serve until she died, or her master released her.

Both options meant the end of her world.

The Last did not bother dressing, before answering the summons. The cold would help to focus her mind away from the injuries.

((()))

Luxa studied the datapad she'd received via anonymous courier. She knew who it was from. She even knew the source; B4-D4.

She held the key to Jana Lorso. The zeltron savored the sensation for several seconds. She paged through the document. Although it implicated some Exchange personnel as well, most of them were little more than foot soldiers, simple cut-outs. They could be replaced, and their absence until their sentence was served would not break the organization.

Now she needed the proper vector. She needed a whistle-blower. A man of conviction, but more importantly, a man (or woman, Luxa supposed mirthlessly), that was foolish enough to allow sentiment to cloud their sense of self-preservation. Only one man came to mind.

 _Batano_.

He was even on a friendly first name basis with the station's security chief. It was almost too perfect.

((()))

Choy sat on the edge of the landing platform, staring off into the distance. Beneath the green tinged sky, the dim light of "morning" was struggling to pierce the poisonous particulates. There was no wind beneath the invisible dome. It still felt unnatural to Choy, as if the dome was always on the cusp of a storm, the air felt dead and flat. Her shift started in an hour and she hadn't been able to sleep. With a project this massive, especially running in twelve hour shifts as they were, it was important to sleep and take downtime when it was available. Burning out might be disastrous.

3C-FD trundled over to Choy and beeped worriedly at her, fine grasper arm grabbing a corner of her coveralls, without pinching her.

 _[Sitting here is not safe]_ the utility droid beeped.

"I'm fine, Three-see. But keep a hold on me anyway," Choy chuckled.

The little droid's head rotated to look up at her, photoceptor studying her.

It made Choy feel bad. She scooted back until only her ankles were hanging over the edge of the platform, and the droid let go with relief, moving up next to her, sitting up on its wheels.

"How's Ef-ess doing?" Choy asked.

 _[Still recharging. The primary motivator will need to be serviced soon, or replaced]_ 3C-FD reported.

"I know… but the part won't arrive until next week," Choy sighed. FS-907 was an old droid. It had been old when it came into her possession. She'd rebuilt it after a mining accident, buying it at scrap value… because it had been. It performed very well for a droid with a second lease on life.

Secretly, Choy suspected the reason FS-907 was so diligent and earnest wasn't due to the simplicity of its verbobrain… but that it knew that she'd repaired it. The droid was fearless, except around binary load lifters (one of which had accidentally set a crate down upon it, crushing FS-907, resulting in Choy's purchase).

She hated how droids were treated, as if they were disposable. On the whole, most were simple automatons, those given frequent memory wipes to avoid "quirks." But some droids were capable of something close or identical to sentience, if given enough time to learn. They inhabited a grey area in the galaxy's morality. Considering how casually many droids were ill-spent in dangerous pursuits, Choy wasn't sure if it was actually kinder to keep such droids from self-awareness. Choy believed 3C-FD was sentient. She wasn't sure about FS-907.

"Sometimes I forget," a rough voice said quietly from behind Choy, interrupting her musings. The mechanic looked over her shoulder, spotting one of the mercenaries, a duros. She thought his name was Soran. He held a cup of steaming instant-caf, sipping at it gingerly, nose-less face wrinkled with fatigue. Several sections of the sonic dampers had failed along the camp perimeter last night from a power surge, forcing the mercs to run double patrols in the gaps while the engineers kept the power grid from frying.

Choy returned her gaze to the rolling plains, and the scattering of planted trees.

"Sometimes, the old bitch is beautiful," the merc said quietly, joining Choy's survey of the dome.

"Without the shield it'll all die," Choy pointed out sadly. The landscape was rocky, but she knew that was just from building rubble that had been only partially salvaged before loam and topsoil was poured over it, for planting the base layer of vegetation.

"For now. But one day there won't be shields, and my children, or their children will walk on Telos again," the duros replied, unruffled.

"It will take decades. Perhaps centuries," Choy said sadly.

"It's always easier to kill than mend," the mercenary chuckled.

"I know," Choy said.

((()))

Atton studied his pazaak cards, then glanced around the packed room. Luxa had picked a seedy, rundown gambling den in Module 81 for this meeting. Benok was handling security. The man was arrogant, but after a quick ( _and unobserved_ ) check Atton had deemed the safeguards competent. He just wished it didn't smell so bad. Dozens of unwashed bodies in close proximity was a bit heady.

If Jana Lorso even _suspected_ what they were doing, this entire situation would go to hell faster than a Hutt in freefall. Atton wished his pants weren't sticking to the chair he'd chosen. It had been the cleanest looking too.

"You aren't even trying," Luxa protested, her foot curling around his ankle.

"How much do I owe?" Atton asked casually, raising an eyebrow.

"Three thousand four hundred and ninety-seven credits," Luxa replied immediately.

"Roughly?" Atton challenged.

Luxa smiled, "Roughly." There was a gleam in her eye.

"I saved your life," Atton pointed out, as Luxa won the hand, and dragged the low denomination credits to her side of the table.

"And I saved yours," Luxa grinned, beginning the next round.

"No you didn't. You interrupted. Cutter was a dead devaronian walking," Atton replied, glancing at his cards with irritation, he shoved the rest of his credits into the pot.

"Then you should have been faster," Luxa smirked, matching his stake.

"I never rush," Atton said dismissively, laying down his cards. Luxa stared at his perfect 20.

"And I never miss," he smiled, but let the chill out a little. Let her feel it. He wasn't sure why.

Luxa's eyes dilated as she stared into his, studying him. She reached out a trembling hand, her warm fingers dancing across the parts of his fingers not covered by his gloves. She looked like she'd taken a hit of glitterstim.

"So sharp," she whispered.

Then Atton let the chill sink, to settle beneath his defenses, hidden once again.

"I feel ridiculous," a man announced gratingly, sitting in the vacant chair next to Atton. The man wore durable clothing, and had been burned at some point, leaving his face a shiny, melted mess. A vocabulator gleamed at his throat, hinting at vocal cord damage from inhaling superheated air.

"Why? It quite becomes you, Handsome," Luxa purred.

The man scowled (or tried to anyway), "It itches," he complained.

"Yes. It will also keep you from dying in your sleep," Luxa observed, sipping at her Altaran brandy.

"True," the man conceded, playing with the disguised voice scrambler at his throat. Atton held up his empty glass, staring imperiously at the droid wait-staff puttering around the room. He felt a sharp knife cut through his sinuses, and his inner ear started to tickle.

Benok had seen the signal. The gambling den's security systems and sensors had experienced an unfortunate glitch, flooding the den with supersonic aural feedback and static distortion. It was too high for most ears to perceive, but it would play hell with any recording equipment. A bulbous headed Bith started screaming, fleeing the room with bleeding ears.

It was more subtle than a sonic bubble, which simply screamed _look at me, I have something to hide_. Also, considering how run down this dive was, no one would think twice about such a malfunction.

The burn man accepted cards from Atton, and stared at the pot.

"I don't actually know how to play," the man admitted.

"Then fake it," Luxa sighed.

Atton went first, drew a card and flipped it onto the table, +3.

"I'm going to bury Jana Lorso," Luxa said, watching the burn man drop his card in surprise, a -2.

"How?" he asked.

"I found her _actual_ finance report. She's been very naughty," Luxa smirked, but the look in her eyes was far from friendly. Predatory eyes.

"What do you want from me? Not that I don't enjoy our talks," the burn man said quickly.

"If I expose her, she'll turn Czerka's resources against us, and try to drag us down too. I want you to make your play when I expose her, fracture her power base," Luxa said, slowly running a finger down the spine of the card in her hand. The burn man followed her finger's sinuous movements.

He licked his lips, "What play?"

Luxa smiled condescendingly, but there was only winter in her eyes, "Oh Falt… don't play that game with me. You're ambitious, cowardly, intelligent, and very, very greedy. You haven't served as a footstool for two years to a woman like Jana Lorso because you don't have a choice. You have a plan."

Corrun Falt stared at his cards thoughtfully.

"I've helped you before, and you've helped me. Jana has soured relations with the Exchange. Imagine if you had closer ties instead. Everything would run so much… smoother, with _you_ in charge," Luxa murmured.

The burn man slowly looked up from his cards, his temporarily ruined face tugging itself into a terrible smile, "I think we can come to an arrangement."

((()))

Choy wiped sweat off before it could drip from her eyebrow into her eye, cursing quietly whichever long-dead technician had used rivets instead of bolts to secure the access panel she was fighting in the cramped crawlspace. The rivets had been sloppy too, at angles.

 _A question for you_ , the shade whispered.

Choy lowered her fusion cutter slowly.

"Shouldn't you already know the answer?" Choy asked.

 _I touch your thoughts. Why do you assume I know your past?_ The shade countered.

Choy reached for the hydrospanner, "Ask," she sighed.

 _How did you endure your isolation?_ The shade wondered.

Choy blinked at the sudden blade pressed into her soul. It hurt.

 _Apologies,_ the shade winced.

"No. No I need to face this," Choy whispered.

She tried to turn and peer at the past twelve years. Twelve years of… emptiness.

Alone.

"I lied," Choy whispered, placing the hydrospanner down with trembling fingers before she damaged something important.

 _Another time then,_ the shade suggested.

"You misunderstand. I lied. It's how I endured," Choy breathed.

The shade was silent for several long heartbeats.

 _Interesting_ , the shade hissed with sudden realization.

"I lied. I pretended it didn't hurt, that this was all there was. That this was life and I had purpose. I buried everything and left the grave unmarked. I moved on by leaving everything behind," Choy choked, letting the lid off the box _just a little_.

 _That's it. Breathe,_ the shade encouraged.

It hurt.

 _Pain is a servant, a messenger. You are its master, do not be consumed by it, you are more than pain, you are above it,_ the shade advised.

There was too much, too much, too—!

 _ **Breathe**_ _,_ the shade snarled.

Choy snapped the lid shut inside her. Slowly vision returned as she gasped in the cold metal duct. She felt drained, sluggish, almost _poisoned_.

A frozen hand gently caressed her cheek.

 _You did well. That is perhaps enough for one day,_ the shade chuckled wryly.

((()))

The Mistress slowly walked among the narrow shelves that hived the massive room like the lattice of some strange insect. The hems of her spotless white robes stirred the curling vapors that clung to the floor in the cold. Each shelf bore tidy rows of data cards, each card containing the width and breadth of a single Jedi's life knowledge. There were millions of cards… but it was only a fraction of the library that had been lost when Ossus had been obliterated by the Sith. More had been lost when the Temple on Coruscant had been abandoned.

This vault was her legacy. Master Atris was the last of the Jedi… but from this seed, hope would sprout again. Light could return to the galaxy. The darkness would spread, then turn upon itself with nothing else to hunt or kill… when that happened night would turn to day with her coming.

"Mistress, you summoned us?" a figure, hidden in white whispered.

"I did," the Mistress said quietly. The massive chamber enforced silence, or at worst, hushed awe in its subjects. One did not shout here.

"We await your command," the Handmaidens bowed their heads.

"My sources tell me that the Telos fuel shipment is late, by nearly two weeks. This concerns me," Atris said.

"We will investigate," the first among the Handmaidens promised, bowing low.

Atris ran a hand along the row of wisdom beside her, troubled.

"It concerns me greatly," she whispered.

If this world fell the galaxy would follow.

((()))

Choy picked up the tiny seed from its place on her bedroll and studied it. The casing was four millimeters long, with a sharp point that tapered to a round base. It surface was an iridescent purple hue, similar to light reflected from spilt oil.

 _Good. Study the patterns on the shell,_ the shade instructed.

Choy memorized the patterns, shifting the seed in the light of her glowrod. 3C-FD sat nearby, recharging, its photoceptor dark. FS-907 curled nearby, similarly charging.

 _Do you feel the resistance against your fingers? Not unlike air bubbles trapped beneath ice?_ The shade whispered.

Choy closed her eyes, concentrating just on her finger tips. The seed was nearly weightless. There was no resistance, almost no sensation—

 _Here. Right here_ , the shade whispered, cold fingers threading through Choy's for a moment, forcing her fingers to move slightly and—

The song whispered within Choy's mind.

Just a few notes. Each note was brief, but sustained. Stable. Patient.

Then the pressure within Choy's hands faded as the shade slowly withdrew… but Choy could still hear the almost phantom chords, now that she knew what to listen for.

 _Although the Force does not speak to you, it's voice may be overheard,_ the shade whispered.

The seed suddenly floated above Choy's hand for a moment before landing in the valley of two fingers.

 _And once overheard its voice may be mimicked, to trick its servants into action,_ the shade sighed tiredly.

Choy contained her building excitement, barely. She could tell that the feeble action had cost the shade severely.

 _Rest. We will work more on this later_ , the shade promised.

((()))

Corrun Falt sat at his desk and listened to the poisoned honey drip from Jana Lorso's lips. Profits were down. They were always down. She sent him to fetch a cup of caf for her, and a foodstick from the restaurant she liked in Module 82. Falt simpered and groveled.

At 0836 station time a legal summons was sent via encrypted courier to Executive Officer Jana Lorso. At 0839 the summons was opened. At 0840… chaos erupted within the inner sanctum of one Jana Lorso.

"Falt! Get me that idiot from the Telosian Council, Tiris, bring him here!" Jana snarled, bursting from her office. Falt smiled and nodded, keying in the comlink code.

 _Tiris is in my pocket now. He won't interfere in Council Policy for you this time._

Her next step would be to lean on the Czerka Sector officer, Egan Piel, a long time associate of Lorso… who was inconveniently ill, she would find, but expected to make a full recovery soon.

Jana Lorso's fortress was powerful, but it rested on only a handful of pillars, mighty though they were.

The rapid communiqués continued for the rest of the morning, as Jana discovered that almost all (he hadn't had time to undermine _everyone_ ) of her supporters were unable to aid her. Falt drank in his superior's mounting panic, like a fine elixir left to steep for years, and reminisced on every indignity he'd suffered. Falt decided it had been worth the wait.

((()))

"Harra, is it?" the slightly distorted voice asked.

"Yes, this is Harra," the technician confirmed, warily. Only two people had this comlink frequency.

"Do you recall the… incident, from two weeks ago?" the voiced asked briskly.

"There were several incidents ma'am, to which are you referring?" Harra hedged.

There was a burst of static that might have been an irritated sigh. Harra wasn't sure.

"Harra, let me be blunt with you," the voice replied tersely.

"You value your job, correct?"

"Yes," Harra answered guardedly.

"And you work these hours to repay the debt that placed your fiancé in a rather… degrading, position, yes?"

"Yes," Harra growled.

"Excellent. I have a proposition. I will arrange for the debt you owe to be settled, in exchange for a favor. A shuttle will be arriving in twenty minutes, and when it does, I want you to clear it for landing. That's all," the voice told him.

Smuggling?

Harra only considered the ramifications for a moment. What was personal honor to him? Even if he was implicated or arrested Ramana would be free _now_. Not in five years… _now_.

"What's the shuttle's IFF-tag?" Harra asked.

((()))

Atris sat in meditation, trying to calm her mind, to pierce the veil of darkness that clung to the Force. She'd been attempting to meditate for the last six hours, without any progress. Something was muffling _everything_ , blotting it out, or erasing future variables. She could barely discern the edges, but realized that the sensation wasn't new. She'd felt it for months, possibly years, simply not this acutely.

It was like staring out at space and not seeing a ship painted in black. While it was far away it was invisible, but as it neared it began to blot out stars, and became noticeable only by proximity.

It frightened Atris, although the emotion did not reach her. She held it at bay, calming the minor emotion into silence. There was only serenity here—

Which was broken by an unexpected whisper:

"Mistress, there is news."

Atris schooled her features before turning, keeping her glacial mask in place.

"Thank you, I will receive it now," she said, addressing the last of the Handmaidens.

The young woman bowed properly as she presented a comlink to her mistress. Atris sensed the fire rage across the woman's broken ribs, but it never showed in her face or posture. That was true discipline of the mind.

Atris activated the comlink, "You have news?"

The Third among the Handmaidens spoke quickly, and succinctly, "Peragus has been destroyed. The republic is conducting an investigation of the system, and attempting to secure another source of fuel for Citadel Station. I have copied their data files."

Atris' hand was trembling.

"Bring me everything you have. Bring it now," Atris whispered.

((()))

"What?" Luxa shouted, glaring at the comlink in her hand.

"A shuttle left half an hour ago. Jana Lorso arranged it under a false employee authorization code. I just found out," Corrun Falt explained patiently.

"Where is it bound?" Luxa asked, though from the sinking sensation in her gut she could guess. Corrun transmitted the telemetry to her data pad.

The red line terminated on Telos's surface, helpfully labeled as _RZ-0031_.

"She's going to destroy the evidence," Luxa snarled.

"She also kicked off a gundark-nest up here. Apparently, _someone_ misfiled our private contractor payroll. The mercenaries are rioting in the employee-resource departments right now," Corrun continued grimly. Luxa could hear the occasional blaster retort crackle in the background of Corrun's transmission.

"That _schutta,_ " Luxa hissed, fingers dancing across her console.

"Can you handle this? I'm trapped here," Corrun asked flatly.

"Yes. Clean your mess, I'll clean this one," Luxa promised darkly.

((()))

Choy could hear screaming and the throaty hum of blaster fire.

"This is Verdan, what's happening?" Choy asked, but her comlink shrieked at her, signaling a powerful jamming field. Choy scowled and shoved the comlink back onto her belt. She grabbed the fusion cutter from her tool kit, and slung the kit across her shoulder by the strap.

3C-FD and FS-907 looked at her inquisitively from the open access panel they were working on.

"Stay behind me," Choy said quietly.

Choy walked quickly but quietly through the empty halls of the military base, towards the firefight. She passed several dead Czerka technicians, but she didn't recognize them. All had blaster wounds in the back. Near the entrance Choy found two dead mercenaries. She recognized them from Alpha shift's security detail. Their light armor was badly damaged from dozens of blaster impacts apiece. The multitude of blaster impacts on the walls hinted at overwhelming firepower unleashed in the area. Since neither man had unlimbered a weapon, Choy suspected it wasn't from a protracted firefight, but simply terrible aim and a large number of enemies.

Choy took their weapon belts, slinging them across her shoulder like a pair of baldrics. The holstered heavy blaster pistol and vibro-blade tapped against her ribs as she walked, new blaster carbine in hand. She selected semi-automatic.

The blaster fire was closer now.

Choy peeked out the open doors of the military base, at the landing pad. It was a war-zone.

Squads of old battle droids advanced among the tents of the expedition scattered across the two hundred meter wide circular landing platform. A shuttle was burning on the eastern end of the platform, hulled by heavy anti-air fire. One of its wings had detached and scythed through dozens of tents before crumpling at the base of the tower that had killed it. Choy spotted one of the AA laser towers swiveling, searching for additional targets in the sky. Its barrel wobbled as the tracking gyros and gears repeatedly seized from neglect.

Mercenaries and a few technicians were popping out of cover wherever they could find it, returning fire against the roving squads of droids. They needed to get off the platform. Choy spotted a pair of mercenaries thirty meters from her. One of the mercs had a light repeater rifle. A squad of droids was attempting to flank them, but the angle was difficult for the mercenaries to hit the droids, due to some supply crates in the way.

They needed that position. It was keeping the droids from simply sweeping across the platform. Choy sprinted from cover, to the right. She had her eye on a stack of crates that looked like solid cover. 3C-FD squealed in Choy's wake as a few droids noticed them and opened fire. Most of it was a meter wide of her, at least. Choy hit cover in a crouch, and popped around the side. She took a second to sight, exhaled and fired twice. Two battle droids from the squad flanking the merc light repeater fell. The droid squad split in half, one continuing to flank, the other charging at Choy, demonstrating standard combat tactics.

"Effess, blind them!" Choy snapped, switching to full automatic. FS-907 scuttled into the open and swept its fire suppression spray across the faces of the battle droids.

The droids scraped at their photoceptors, trying to regain target acquisition as they fired blindly. Choy stood and swept the four droids, stippling them at chest height with a burst from her carbine. Three fell, one staggered from a glancing hit. Choy finished that one with another blast to the chest.

Choy heard metal collide with tremendous force and snapped her head around. Bao-Dur vaulted a supply container, punching his mechanical arm through the chest of a second droid, using the stricken droid as a shield while he fired a blaster pistol at the surviving pair of droids. Choy whistled then ran towards the zabrak in a half crouch. Her droids followed at her whistle.

Choy arrived as the last droid from the flanking squad fell. The zabrak knocked the droid off his arm, ducking down behind the mercenary's cover as distant blaster fire sparked around his feet.

Choy joined him a moment later.

"We need to get off this platform," Bao-Dur said.

"Agreed, but we can't let the shield fail either," Choy panted.

One of the mercenaries crouch walked over to Choy, "Did you come out of the base?" he asked.

"Yes," Choy answered.

"Did you see Commander Fen?" the merc shouted to be heard over his comrade's light repeater blaster.

"No," Choy answered.

" _Fierfeik,"_ the merc sighed.

"What are your orders?" Bao-Dur asked, looking at _Choy_.

Choy blanched and the mercenary scowled at the zabrak, "I'm second in command."

"What are your orders, _General?_ " the zabrak repeated, staring at Choy.

The question echoed inside Choy's skull, threatening to break something loose. Something she couldn't look at.

 _He knows who I was._

"Don't call me that," Choy whispered, stricken. Bao-Dur flinched in surprise, but nodded.

"We can fall back to the Ithorian camp," the zabrak offered, shifting gears.

"Felsyn's squad is with them," the mercenary without the repeater realized.

"Exactly. They also have food, medical supplies, and a spare transmitter," the zabrak agreed.

"We can use the speeders to escape if we follow the base of the cliff, and take out the western AA tower. The others will be blocked," the mercenary suggested.

"How? We don't have any heavy ordinance," the mercenary with the repeating blaster snarled.

"We can't leave," Choy whispered.

"It's ten kilometers to the Ithorian camp. We can make it on foot," the first merc pointed out, squeezing off a couple shots at distant battle droids. He hit one, but couldn't be sure how badly.

"Easy for you," the merc with the light repeater grunted, tapping his knuckles against his battle-armor. It looked heavy. It also looked effective, since the man had carbon scoring from recent impacts.

"Shut up. Alright, we break for the edge," the mercenary leader decided.

"We need to give the others time to fall back to us," the mercenary with the repeater protested.

"We can't leave," Choy repeated, louder. The merc in light armor sneered at her, but Bao-Dur looked at her thoughtfully.

"I wasn't finished with repairs on level five. If the generator surges, we'll lose the shield," Choy explained.

Both mercs scowled, glaring up at the field that kept the poisonous atmosphere at bay. They were trapped…

"We can't stay out here though," the lightly armored merc growled.

"No. _You_ can't," Choy agreed, glancing back at the open entrance to the telosian military base.

"That's crazy," the merc leader said flatly, "You don't have any armor."

"Don't worry about it," Bao-Dur said, "just cover us before you retreat to the Ithorian camp,"

The leader merc chewed his lip for a second.

"Shit. Go."

The zabrak nodded, "Choy, give me a five second lead."

Choy nodded slowly.

A circular plane of nearly invisible energy a meter in diameter erupted from the zabrak's mechanical arm and he broke from cover, drawing fire.

Choy counted quietly. She could see the big zabrak sprinting across the battlefield, head tucked low. Blaster fire slapped impotently against his shield. A few bolts slipped past his exposed knees. Then she started running, her droids in close pursuit.

((()))

"What _can_ you tell me, Grenn?" Admiral Onasi asked, scratching at the stubble on his jaw blearily. He needed to shave again.

"Riots all over the station, most are centered in the entertainment modules, some are in the industrial sectors too. _Armed_ riots. The emergency response teams are overwhelmed by the quantity, and the standard security troopers aren't properly equipped to deal with masses of well armed hostiles in heavy battle armor. There's also a lot of civilians trapped in the combat areas," Grenn said, his dour face tight with tension.

"You have to watch your fire. They don't," Carth finished grimly.

Grenn nodded angrily.

"I'm deploying the marine detachment from Sojurn, but that's only sixty men," Carth warned.

"Any of them vets?" Grenn asked hopefully.

"The sergeants," Carth shrugged.

"And egalitarianism bites us in the ass," Grenn growled. Carth hadn't hand picked the crew of his flagship. He hadn't hoarded talent like some admirals had.

"I'm also sending my aide," Carth smiled sharply.

"These are rough men. Waving a datapad at them won't—" Grenn began to grunt until he saw how pointed Carth's smile was… which made him smile slightly too.

"What was he?" Grenn asked.

"Commando, for both sides," Admiral Onasi smiled darkly.

Grenn's eyebrows lifted slightly, as animated as the man's face ever became.

Disloyalty was tantamount to the ultimate evil where Carth was concerned. For him to have someone like that as an aide…

Carth issued orders, and didn't miss the gleam in Jordo's eye.

Sixty-one men wouldn't make a terrible difference, but it had to be done regardless. Besides, every life saved would be a victory… to those who had been saved.

Carth cut transmission with Citadel Station, and turned to Captain Dross, "Any luck with Jolee?"

The dour captain shook his head curtly, "The Ebon Hawk is still listed as berthed, but there's been no response to our transmissions."

Carth nodded tiredly, "His comlink's probably off again, but he's also probably elbow deep in the situation already."

 _I hope._

((()))

"I can't raise base camp, we're being jammed," Gerson said, his voice clipped.

Felsyn scowled, looking into the distance. He could see a column of black smoke rising, pooling against the ceiling of the dome.

 _[Sergeant, the sonic emitters will be sufficient to protect us from predators. Please, use the speeders to return and render aid]_ Chodo Habat rumbled, his voice overlaid by the vocodor's translation around his neck.

"No," Felsyn decided, "There's nearly two hundred mercs and techs at base camp. If they couldn't handle it, throwing another squad into the mix won't help."

 _[Whatever the accident is, assistance will never go astray]_ Chodo answered.

"Respectfully, I don't think that's an accident. It looks like an attack," Felsyn said grimly.

"Damage to the comm. tower _might_ mimic a jamming field, but there would be intermittent power surges," a technician said, standing by Gerson, studying the readout, pointing at the display.

"Jennai's right, sir. I'm not seeing any fluctuations," Gerson confirmed.

 _[Sergeant, we cannot simply stand by]_ Chodo protested.

"We won't be. Basak, Krun. Take enough supplies for a day in the field, I want you to recce base camp. Only approach close enough to determine status, then return. Don't transmit, but monitor local comm. frequencies," Felsyn said. The two mercenaries he'd indicated nodded, gathering supplies quickly, shedding the bulkier plastoid armor plates, down to the reinforced undersuits. They had the most experience for this situation. Basak (a trandoshan) had "retired" from the slave trade and Krun (a man in his late thirties) was used to avoiding customs patrols. They shouldn't have too much trouble with local predators either…

"The rest of you, we're breaking camp!" Felsyn shouted.

 _[The plants aren't ready yet. They cannot be moved]_ Chodo protested.

"This camp is an easy target. There's no concealment here," Felsyn said flatly, lazily encompassing the plains with one hand.

"That cliff face has several overhangs, and a small cave system," Gerson said, pointing to the cliffs that bordered the plains, a kilometer away.

"Perfect," Felsyn said sardonically. He didn't mention what Gerson and Jennai might have been using the caves for.

((()))

" _How_ qualified are you?" an Exchange thug with a crookedly healed nose asked Atton nervously.

"Relax. I flew the Peragus field," Atton snickered, as he checked over the flight systems of the ministry-class shuttle.

"Just keep those gammoreans from cutting holes in the hull, and we'll be fine," the rogue shrugged. There were only a handful of the bulky porcine humanoids, but a handful could seem like a crowd with hardly any effort. The bent nosed thug stared a little longer before buckling into the co-pilot station.

"Glit-seven, this is Glit-eight, I have two engines hot, ready to fly," Atton transmitted.

"Glit-eight, I read. Engines are green here too," the second shuttle responded.

The hastily mustered group of Exchange beaters huddled in the backs of the shuttles, basically anyone Luxa could lay hands on with short notice had found themselves on the shuttles.

"Glit-seven, follow my wing," Atton said, goosing the thrusters.

"Sure," Glit-seven chuckled, "I'll let you check for mines."

"Much appreciated," Atton growled, waiting until he was clear of Citadel Station's shadow before opening up the shuttle's drives, accelerating away from the second shuttle. The enemy had a fifty minute lead up on them.

((()))

"I'm securing the doors," Choy said. Bao-Dur nodded, keeping watch with Choy's carbine.

"Maybe lock all the droids outside," the technician grunted.

"I doubt we're that lucky," Choy replied.

The blast doors to the base groaned and closed. Choy cut two more relays, just in case, to keep the doors from being opened by remote override.

"I'll head to the power distribution center. You finish your repairs," Bao-Dur said, pulling his Remote from the pouch on his belt. The sphere beeped softly before lifting out of his palm, repulsorlifts active.

"Be careful," Choy whispered, drawing the heavy blaster from her new baldric.

"You too—" Bao-Dur said, before biting off the last word, averting his eyes. _General._

3C-FD and FS-907 looked up at Choy, she could almost feel their mechanical concern. It was like Peragus all over again.

Choy flicked her blaster off safety, then broke into a quiet jog. After a moment she looked back at FS-907 and shrugged, breaking into a full run, since the clatter of the fire suppression droid's legs on the deck was louder than anything she made. _I need to resurface his feet again,_ Choy thought, making a mental note. She'd been meaning to get to it, but...

Choy rounded the corner to the emergency maintenance access hatch and straight into a battle droid. She raised her hand instinctively to cushion her face with it, as she bowled into the bipedal droid. They both crashed to the ground. Choy's hand hurt, as did her gut, and left knee. Droids were _hard_.

Choy's _other_ hand fired the heavy blaster into the struggling droid. The droid's thrashing knocked the blaster from Choy's hand leaving her fingers numb from the impact. A blaster bolt snarled past her head before impacting into the wall behind her. Choy threw herself free of the droid she was entangled in, head desperately rising to look down the hall. Two more battle droids advanced clumsily with their ill-maintained servos, trying to aim their rifles. Fine motor control was always the first to go for droids.

Choy spotted her blaster two meters away, out in the open. The fallen droid was closer, but their model's weapons tended to be directly linked and lacking an actual trigger.

Metal cascaded, nearly deafening Choy as FS-907 charged past her down the corridor.

"Efess!" Choy shouted, "Stop!"

For once, the droid didn't listen. 3C-FD whirred past as well, body hunched low on its wheels, following FS-907. FS-907 activated its fire suppression, blinding the two droids it was charging.

Choy lunged for her fallen blaster on scraped knees.

There was a crash of metal as FS-907 slammed into the shins of the lead droid, low center of mass easily trumping the bipedal droid's balance. The second battle droid pointed its blaster roughly at the noise before 3C-FD squealed in terror, lowering its coin shaped head, and colliding with its target.

Choy sprinted down the corridor, flinching from a couple of blindly fired blaster bolts, before surgically pumping a bolt into both battle droids power supplies.

3C-FD was making distressed noises, trying to raise its head back up.

"Threesee, stop. You've damaged that servo, _and_ bent the retaining arm," Choy snapped. Reluctantly the utility droid stared at the deck.

FS-907 was no worse for the wear, but it was a much sturdier model.

"Damn it, you two _aren't_ combat models!" Choy snarled, manually pulling 3C-FD's head up, then spot welding it in place. She'd have to fix it later, but at least the droid could look around now (if not down or up).

 _[You were in danger]_ 3C-FD protested.

"Not _that_ much danger," Choy argued.

 _[Without you we are things again. They will make us forget]_ 3C-FD said quietly.

Choy froze, staring at the utility droid.

 _[We must keep you safe]_

The bleakness of the droid's statement threatened to tip her back into—

 _You have a task. Complete it first,_ the shade hissed in Choy's mind.

Right. Choy centered herself. She would deal with this later.

((()))

Atton angled the shuttle down towards the vast bubble formed by the restoration zone's shield. He should have been pinged by a traffic controller by now—

Terror suddenly cramped Atton's gut, and the man instinctively slewed the shuttle into a starboard yaw, kicking down hard on his etheric rudder. Green laser fire flashed past his view port a split second later. He didn't have any readings with the zone's shield up.

"Break off!" Broken Nose yelped, clutching his restraints.

 _No time_. They were traveling too quickly. He could have tried to pull away, but not in atmosphere, not at this speed. The drag would rip the wings off the shuttle. So instead he pointed the nose down, dropping another three hundred meters. This also killed some of their forward momentum as the atmosphere caught the edges of the shuttle's wings. The next quartet of bolts slashed through the air a few meters ahead of the shuttle's nose, missing again.

Atton had seen where the bolts came from this time. _AA tower of some kind, looks like the base._ In the split second he processed this his hand was already moving, activating the braking thrusters, and deployed the landing gear, which forced the wings to start rising into their landed position as they pierced the shield.

If he tried to power his away through he would give the AA gun a perfect shot of his belly on the way past, and simply altering his vector and speed wouldn't be enough to throw off the automated targeting. The only solution was get out of the air. So Atton did that.

Atton fired all of his braking thrusters, feeling the restraints cut into his chest from the viciously high-gee maneuver (even with the inertial compensator at maximum)

He had a split second view of watching Glit-Seven try to escape, as he bounced across a grassy plain towards a stand of trees there was an explosion in the distance and a swiftly dying star marked the death of the second shuttle.

"Brace!" Atton wheezed. The trees looked _awfully_ close, and very thick for mere saplings. Then the shuttle lost its wings. Atton wasn't aware of much after that.

((()))

Luxa crouched at her computer station, marshalling a few "assets." The riot was threatening to spill over onto properties owned by the Exchange. Very lucrative businesses. She was missing most of her heavies. Luxa missed her gammoreans. They were dumb, but so were most mercs. They were also big enough that most mercs understood to go looting in the _other_ direction.

The door chimed and Luxa angrily glanced at the security camera. Benok.

"What do you want?" Luxa demanded.

Benok fired his blaster at something beyond the camera's feed.

"The riot is moving this way. You need to _move_ ," he said. She could hear the excitement in his voice.

It wasn't every day he had the chance to flaunt his skills.

"Can you give me four minutes to finish tasking these idiots?" Luxa asked.

Benok smiled up into the camera, his face transformed into something almost human.

"I'll give you six," he promised.

A pity that he was only like this when he killed. She might have taken him to bed more often otherwise.

Luxa finished sending orders and grabbed the Negotiator on the way to her door.

((()))

"Hey, idiot, wake up," someone grunted, unkindly smacking Atton's aching face.

Blearily the rogue cracked an eyelid.

"I hate Telos," he whispered.

"So much for _ace_ pilot," Broken nose sneered, releasing his restraints stiffly.

"Hey, we're still alive, right?" Atton demanded, his jaw throbbing.

"And the other shuttle isn't. It's why I didn't shoot you," Broken Nose confided, dragging himself towards the back of the cockpit.

"You're welcome," Atton muttered, loosening the blaster in his holster.

Broken Nose got everyone able to stand off the shuttle (although the ramp jammed half-way down, forcing the gamorreans to squeeze a little).

"Sorry boys, but we've got to run," Broken Nose sighed, staring off at the base in the distance.

"We were never here, and Luxa's gonna skin us if we let those mercs trash the evidence," Broken Nose grunted, breaking into a painful trot. Nineteen pairs of feet followed reluctantly.

((()))

Luxa slipped on a light weight jacket of gold threads, more to conceal her weapons from security scanners than for modesty, which it failed at due to the many sections that apparently didn't need coverage. Personally, she didn't think the danger was that serious. The door to her apartment was reinforced, it would take someone with either a lot of patience and a fusion cutter, or several kilograms of baradium to bypass it. Not to mention the concealed disruptor pistol disguised as an out-of-date security camera, or the sonic blaster mounted three centimeters below the call-plate.

She activated the door and looked out cautiously. Benok was crouched in the scant cover her recessed door offered. She could smell ozone and burnt synthetics, spotting a few blaster scores on Benok's jacket and legs.

He felt vibrantly alive. A primitive knife-edge joy for the hunt.

"Where's the fall back?" Luxa asked, smiling slightly at him. If he was still like this in an hour or two… she might bring him to bed. This mood of his usually didn't last long.

He was a safe enough dalliance, completely loyal because he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Completely—

Luxa's eyes widened and she lunged forward and to the left, barely ahead of the blaster bolt that creased her ribs. Benok's eyes widened slightly as she rose inside his arms, her head cracking painfully against his chin. He was bigger than her. She shoved her stun baton up under his armored jacket and felt her hair briefly leap up as some of the discharge leaked through the brief contact to her.

Benok was much less fortunate.

 _Slusk…_ Luxa glared at the fallen man.

It seemed some house cleaning was in order. Most of her heavies were on Telos, or wrapped up in the riot. That was fine. Luxa reached into her jacket, finding the small encrypted comlink easily. Her ribs were starting to throb from the blaster graze.

"Sidik. I have a job for you…"

((()))

"Bao-Dur, I've finished on level five. The power grid is intact again," Choy reported, standing at the corner of the hallway, watching for combat droids.

"Meet me in power distribution, I think we might have a problem here," Bao-Dur responded tersely. Choy frowned, and glanced at 3C and FS. The easiest path to power distribution was the maintenance access, but it used ladders and tight crawl spaces… something neither droid could safely traverse.

She knelt down in front of 3C-FD and carefully rubbed a spot of grease off its photoceptor with her sleeve.

"I need you to stay here, okay?" she whispered.

 _[We will keep you safe]_ 3C-FD moaned in protest.

"I'll be safer in the maintenance access then out in the corridors. Even with you two to protect me," Choy pointed out gently. She pulled a spare comlink from her belt and held it out. Reluctantly 3C-FD took the device from her with its fine grasper arm.

"Find a safe place and hide. I'll contact you when it's safe," Choy promised.

Once the droids had hidden in a nearby storage supply room Choy began her long crawl through the ducts, glow rod clamped in her teeth.

((()))

Atton was near the middle of the mob, ahead of the nine heavily puffing gammoreans, (their crude looking axes shoved through loops on their belts), but behind Broken Nose, and a trandoshan. Two other men with combat vests and heavy blasters were ahead of him as well. Five rodians in a mix of jumpsuits and light armor were spread out a little around Atton (which is why he was here, right in the middle). Safest place to be…

They'd been running for about fifteen minutes when Broken Nose called a "break" (which meant they simply slowed to a walk). The pace would have been ruinous for actual soldiers in the field, weighed down with heavy plastoid armor and provisions. For lightly-armored thugs with slightly illegal (but easily concealable or deniable) weapons it was manageable, even with sprains and light injuries.

Didn't mean Broken Nose was going to be popular any time soon, or able to sleep soundly. However, Atton could now make out _what_ was burning on the landing pad in the not distant enough distance. A shuttle had been destroyed on the pad… and it looked like the AA guns were still moving, possibly even tracking. There was abundant cover from the multitude of short "hills" with grass and saplings sticking out of them, making the group hard to target at a distance.

"Cannock," the trandoshan called, nostrils flaring. Irritated, the group slowed down and let the gammoreans proceed with axes in hand. Predictably, the cannocks erupted from their hiding places among the short hills, zeroing in on the gammoreans eagerly.

Atton guessed the gammoreans smelled _very tasty_.

None of the thugs wasted energy shooting at the cannocks this time, the axes were more than adequate to deal with the dozen half-meter tall scavenger/predators. Two of the gammoreans squealed in battle rage though from a few additional bite marks they'd earned. Just more scars to brag about, Atton decided.

Then the group reluctantly resumed its forced hike at Broken Nose's urging.

((()))

Luxa crouched behind her overturned sleep couch in the apartment's tiny communal room. She lifted a borrowed comlink to her lips and selected one of its presets.

"This is Luxa. I need reinforcements," she transmitted. Benok lay nearby. Apparently he'd taken a heavy blaster bolt to the chest at close range, possibly during the barrage of blaster bolts that had somehow blasted all of her security cameras. Terribly sloppy of him all around.

 _[Luxa? Where's Benok?]_ Matu asked, Benok's most loyal underling.

"Bleeding on my carpet. The rioters have us pinned down, and I don't have a medpac," Luxa responded, shooting Benok's blaster one handed out her front door several times, startling a looter across the way into dropping his end of a sleep couch and diving for cover.

 _[I'll get Nahata and a few more of our boys],_ Matu promised.

Perfect. That would probably thin out most of the protection detail Slusk had remaining… leaving just a few battle droids and receptionists for Sidik.

Matu was incredibly loyal… and impulsive. This was countered by his proficiency with knives of all kinds and small blasters.

Luxa studied Benok's laboriously rising chest thoughtfully. She was ambivalent about his survival. He'd tried to kill her, yes, but he was a professional. He carried out his orders.

((()))

Choy had to use her fusion cutter on the access hatch, it had been spot welded at some point in the past. She poked her head out to check for droids before scrambling for the pitted doors to power distribution, banging her knee along the way.

"Bao-Dur. I'm here," she whispered, her comlink on minimal power.

Choy felt the security locks release beneath her hand, and the door reacted to her proximity, rolling open.

The muscular technician was seated at a console, his stern features wrinkled in a frown as he stared at the terminal screen. Choy secured the door behind her and joined her boss.

"What's wrong?" Choy asked.

"The computer," Bao-Dur replied thoughtfully.

Choy waited patiently.

"It's subverting my commands," the tech clarified.

Choy frowned, "Was there a slicer-attack?"

"No… but these algorithms seem familiar," Bao-Dur said, sparring with his digital adversary.

"The computer accepts my credentials and authority… but it keeps flagging almost everything I do as an illegal modification, and keeps notifying me of unauthorized user access," Bao-Dur grunted.

"What do you need me to do?" Choy asked.

"I want you to run a physical trace on the console while I'm working," Bao-Dur said, pointing his chin at his tool kit that was spread out on the terminal next to him, "Maybe we can find whoever is slicing the system registries…"

Choy nodded, quickly grabbing a network router and splicer cables from the battered tool kit. She removed the housing on the back of Bao-Dur's console, studying the nest of wires and circuit boards for a minute before getting started.

"Tell me when you're ready," Bao-Dur said.

"Almost," Choy answered, squinting through the wires and the shadows they cast from her glowrod as she wormed a hand with a splicer cable deeper into the housing. She slipped the probes into the correct ports with just the tips of her fingers, arm at full extension. The mechanic glanced at the screen of Bao-Dur's network tool.

"Ready," she reported.

"Initiating command authorization query," Bao-Dur announced. He submitted his credentials, to be verified by the computer as legitimate or false.

Choy watched the tool trace the data packet through the command pathways. It arrived at the cz99UH7 computer Czerka had installed to oversee the military base, and the shield generator complex. Then the data packet was returned… with two messages from two different sources.

Authorized and unauthorized.

"Bao-Dur… I traced the query, but it came back with two answers," Choy reported, studying the system tags of the answers.

"The authorized answer is coming from the main computer," Choy continued.

"I'll send the query again, try and back-trace the second answer," Bao-Dur replied.

Choy waited as the tool churned its way back through the tortuous pathways of security clearance and data storage. The tool chimed as it pulled up the search report.

"Answer originated from Ar-em-four-four-seven-six-two." Choy reported.

Bao-Dur grunted, "Let me see where that computer is—" the technician cut off suddenly. Choy popped up from behind the console, worried, but saw that the other tech was staring in surprise at his screen. Choy leaned over and read the screen upside down:

QUERY REQUIRES MILITARY CLEARANCE OF LEVEL THREE OR HIGHER. SUBMIT ACCESS CODE:

Choy's face tightened.

"Surely not… _surely they didn't…_ " Bao-Dur whispered with mounting dread.

Hesitantly he tapped a code into the computer. The screen blanked for a moment.

COMBAT TECHNICIAN THIRD CLASS BAO-DUR: AUTHORIZED.

"Those… _greedy, stupid bastards_ ," Bao-Dur snarled, as he investigated his new access.

"What is it?" Choy asked, guessing the answer but wanting confirmation.

"When they installed their computer, they tied it into the existing network, but didn't wipe the military software and replace it with the civilian versions," Bao-Dur snapped.

 _Probably due to time and costs_ , Choy thought grimly.

"But wouldn't a military computer reject civilian code commands?" Choy asked, confused.

"Normally, yes, but it looks like they created a _software patch_ to fix the _glitch_ ," Bao-Dur growled, nose close to the screen, reading.

Choy was pretty sure she wasn't going to like the full explanation.

Bao-Dur slammed his mechanical fist down on the desk next to him, denting the metal sharply down, staring at his trembling flesh hand.

"I could have fixed this shield in two weeks."

Choy frowned, "What do you mean?"

"The power surges? The random fluctuations? The computer thought it was countering enemy saboteurs. Our repairs and modifications were all signed off with our access credentials. The czerka patch alters the priority flags, ranking our commands as higher priority than the military computer commands, and purges the queued command list after every cycle. That's why whenever we got ahead something else would go wrong. We weren't issuing commands, which let the military computer put its own commands into action, to counter our _sabotage,_ trying to restore the systems to their military specs…" Bao-Dur trailed off kneading his forehead.

"But… where did the droids come from? If there was a droid barracks that the survey team missed, why didn't the computer send them out before now?" Choy asked.

Bao-Dur hesitated, his dark eyes flickering across the terminal as he searched for answers. After a few minutes of red flashing screens the zabrak shook his head.

"I don't have the security clearance."

He raised his eyes to meet Choy's slowly.

"Do you remember your command code?"

His voice was soft, but drowned out easily by the thunder in her ears.

 _Anger. Cold, vicious anger. No. Hatred. Yes. Hatred. Finely focused, not towards her, towards—_

 _—Enough. Let him be, you have burdens enough to carry,_ the shade said sharply, snapping her away from Bao-Dur's amber eyes. Shaken, the woman caught her balance on the console.

"Choy, are you alright?" Bao-Dur asked quietly.

She couldn't match his soft voice to the feelings in his head…

So she ignored them.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"Do you remember your pass code?" Bao-Dur repeated.

Choy slowly straightened up, "Yes… yes I think so."

Bao-Dur gave up his seat, and Choy settled onto the pre-warmed plastic and metal, fingers poised over the interface, hesitating.

 _I am with you_ , the shade promised, _and so is he_.

Choy scowled and forced her fingers to move. A moment later the computer screen changed.

GENERAL MEETRA SURIK: AUTHORIZED

A hole opened beneath Choy's sternum, reading those words. Pain scrabbled across her mind, searching for a handhold.

 _Enough_ — the shade barked sternly, and the hole closed.

 _Thank you_ , Choy whispered.

 _You are welcome_ , the shade replied.

Bao-Dur retook the seat, tapping at the interface quickly.

((()))

Atris studied the initial reports the republic had compiled. A republic cruiser, the Harbinger, had been boarded and seized by an unknown number of equally unknown combatants. All hands lost, the ship had opened fire on a light freighter, the Ebon Hawk, which had ignited the Peragus asteroid field, resulting in the destruction of Peragus. She knew that ship, and who currently piloted it. _Jolee Bindo_ … an excommunicated _padawan_ , who had aided Revan in what many called the Jedi civil war. Heretic was a harsh brush, but its strokes easily applied to Jolee Bindo. Every "Jedi" associated with that ship had either died or lost their way… or outright turned to the dark side.

She continued to study the "classified" reports. She found a flagged recording. The format looked like it had been lifted directly from a droid's memory core. Intrigued, Atris opened the file.

She was staring at… what looked like a medical facility of some kind. Instruments of healing were arranged on a nearby table next to a surgical bed. An old human male in republic uniform wandered through the video, studying his tools before moving to the nearby terminal. The video was bobbing slightly, giving Atris a slight headache. She saw a wall of drawers in the wall to the right of the video. One of them slid open. The old man turned, puzzled, and began to walk over to the drawer.

 _Something_ sat up in the drawer. Atris felt a chill, to see a body so desecrated and damaged, _yet_ mobile.

"How—?"

The old man's words were cut off as the corpse turned sightless eyes on the man… and he rose several centimeters into the air, clutching at his neck.

 _"Where is the Jedi?"_ the corpse grated, slowly standing up.

The old man started screaming, his head moving strangely. Then the head simply exploded in a mist of bone, blood, and viscera. The headless corpse was flung negligently and hit the camera. A thunderous clang made Atris flinch, no doubt the droid being smashed to the deck beneath the dead man. The rest was muffled, she could hear the corpse speak, but couldn't determine the words, heard more screaming… there was another crash… and then silence. Atris raised a hand to move to the next file but noticed that there was still three minutes remaining on the recording, so stayed her hand. She waited, considering what she had seen.

The corpse… it was a Sith of some kind. She had heard of Force Ghosts that fought the will of the Force, remaining in the universe after their death… but nothing like this. It looked similar to some of the horrors Exar Kun and his Sith Alchemy had unleashed on the republic… but not quite. Those abominations had lacked the autonomy to make decisions... no. This was something new (or else so old it had been forgotten).

Cloth rustled against the droid's microphones, like a quiet thunder. The darkness gave way to dusky red lighting. A woman crouched over the camera, her face twisted with sadness and pity as she reached down towards the camera.

"Freeze!" Atris barked, halting the recording. She stared into those gentle eyes, the hand of kindness extended. She felt a stab within her heart, but ignored the sensation.

 _Her_.

Atris fumbled the comlink from a voluminous sleeve.

"Find her. Bring her to me," Atris commanded, face bloodless.


End file.
